


Eternity

by jumyouboshi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-01-05 03:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumyouboshi/pseuds/jumyouboshi
Summary: In another sky, Lucifer survives.In another sky, Sandalphon struggles to come to terms with the things he learns as he waits for Lucifer to awaken.





	1. Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I went off about this Lucifer Lives scenario on Twitter once and people told me I should write it and you know what, I'm doing it because Lucifer deserves so much better than like. EVERYTHING he got.
> 
> This will be my first attempt at a multi-chapter story-based fic so wish me luck so that I don't. end up dropping it along the way. Also it's past midnight and I have not edited this but I'll deal with that in the morning
> 
> This diverges from Chapter 5 of Paradise Lost.

A lone man trudges through the empty shrine, his heels echoing solemnly against stone.

His body is heavy. With every waking minute, he feels as if he is closer to sinking, suffocating in the bog he feels like he’s wading through. But still, he continues on, fueled only by bitterness, a nonsensical desire to prove everyone around him wrong.

Even as he finally falls, even as the pillar he grasps onto collapses under his weight and showers him in debris. In a sense, he thinks bitterly, it’s an allegory for his life. His pillar, the one thing he had had, everything he had believed in, crumbling beneath him and leaving him in ruin…

Motivated only by the girl in blue’s words, words that he absolutely, infuriatingly, cannot banish from his head, Sandalphon continues on, so caught up in his reverie that he fails to notice the blood that stains the cold marble of Canaan’s shrine.

_Lucifer…_

_What were you thinking…_

_I’ll find out once and for all._

He drags his feet to the north end of the shrine, where the weakened aura feels strongest, and opens the stone door.

_I’ll show them. I’ll be proven right… And then…_

He stops dead in his tracks.

The red that he hadn’t noticed before becomes increasingly apparent in the room that spreads before him. His eyes follow the trail of the blood splattered on the ground, each splash progressively larger than the last. It’s scattered haphazardly on the marble, like the mark of some wounded creature stumbling about as it dies slowly and painfully.

All thoughts abandon Sandalphon. He forces his heavy legs to move forward, and the voice in the back of his mind wonders why, _why_ isn’t he moving faster, _why_ , of all times, has he been robbed of his strength--

He remembers suddenly that Lyria had mentioned "saving" Lucifer.

He doesn’t know whether the pounding of his core is attributed to some other blasted ailment that has come to plague him at the worst time, or whether it’s simply because of the anxiety that fills his veins at the thought. All he does know is that the faint trace of Lucifer’s aura grows stronger with every step that he takes, and the trail of blood eventually leads him to the north end of the shrine.

He is afraid of what he will find on the other side of the door as he pushes it open--

\--but nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that greets his eyes.

The sight of a horrifically injured Lucifer on his knees, with a hooded assailant about to bring his blade down on the hapless primarch’s neck.

The cry escapes Sandalphon’s throat before he realizes it:

_“—Lucifer…?!”_

The blade stops short of Lucifer’s neck. Lucifer has also frozen in place, raising his head slowly as if not even daring to look back, and Sandalphon sees an expression so utterly foreign on the supreme primarch’s face that he wonders whether he is hallucinating the whole scene.

A look of dread.

_Fear._

“San...dalphon…?”

“Oh….?” The hooded figure’s lips curve into a cruel smile. “I see… I thought it strange that you weren’t even _trying_ to fight back. It’s because of _him,_ isn’t it.” A cold chuckle. “You’ve become more pathetic than I gave you credit for. How far you’ve fallen in the millennia that have passed…”

_What?_

Sandalphon has little time to puzzle out what the man means. The hooded figure slowly withdraws his blade from Lucifer’s neck and turns to face Sandalphon. Sandalphon’s eyes remain fixated on the man’s strange black spear. There’s something inherently _dreadful_ about the weapon, he can feel it, he can _sense_ it, he instinctively _fears_ it, but he doesn’t understand what it is.

In his peripheral, he can see Lucifer trying to move as well. He sees the way he tries to stand, how his wounded legs give out on him and he falls back onto the ground and barely catches himself on all fours. The hooded figure, as if confident that Lucifer will not be able to follow, takes a step towards Sandalphon and Sandalphon tries, _wills_ himself to move, yet he’s frozen in place as the man approaches him.

He stops only when Lucifer grasps his black robes.

“Enough,” Lucifer says, his voice uncharacteristically strained. Now that Lucifer has turned to face him, Sandalphon can better see the extent of his injuries. Lucifer is covered in them; they litter his body, visible through cracks and chinks in his broken armour. The largest of the wounds is a notably deep gash which runs through his side. Sandalphon can tell that Lucifer is trying to keep his voice calm, trying to wrest control of the situation from the hooded figure’s hands.

“Leave him. I am your target, not him.”

Sandalphon feels the blood draining from his face. Lucifer, as mortally wounded as he is, is still trying to protect him?

A spare? A discarded pawn?

“Trying to make demands now? I don’t think you’ve fully grasped the position you’re in…”

No sooner does the hooded figure finish speaking does he deliver a swift and brutal kick to the side of Lucifer’s head, the impact forcing Lucifer to release his robes and sending the wounded primarch tumbling to the ground with a pained cry. Sandalphon’s reaction is instinctive.

_“Lucifer!”_

But the hooded man has turned on Sandalphon once more.

“You condemned me to millennia of endless slaughter,” he says. He doesn’t even bother sparing Lucifer another glance. “Rest assured, Lucifer… What I’m about to show you will only be a _taste_ of that despair.”

“...Don’t,” Lucifer’s voice is weak, Sandalphon can see him shake with the sheer effort it takes to raise himself up again. “Don’t…hurt him… Do as you will with me… Torture me, take my life… But spare Sandalphon…”

_What…?_

For the second time, Sandalphon finds himself at a loss.

Why is Lucifer trying to protect him?

When he had nearly ended the skies that Lucifer loved?

When he had screamed at Lucifer in hatred, hurled insults at him?

Why—

“How truly pathetic.”

The man kicks Lucifer again, this time ascertaining that his boot connects with Lucifer’s wounded side. Lucifer crumples to the ground, much to Sandalphon’s horror.

“Why don’t you watch from there as I pluck his wings feather by feather?”

And in spite of the pain he’s clearly in, Lucifer musters all of his strength and _yells:_

“Sandalphon, _run!”_

There’s an urgency in Lucifer’s voice that finally prompts Sandalphon to move. But a couple of steps back is all he’s able to take before his weakened legs buckle under his weight without any support, and he falls backwards with a gasp. Lucifer watches with horror as his assailant advances quickly on Sandalphon. 

“Don’t worry, Lucifer. You’ll be joining him shortly.”

Sandalphon’s eyes widen as the man raises his black blade and aims it at his vitals. 

**_"Sandalphon—!”_ **

It happens so quickly, and yet so slowly.

He sees Lucifer fighting back his pain and scrambling to his feet and running towards them.

He sees the way the black blade glints in the limited light of the shrine.

He sees the nightmarish weapon fall towards his chest, and Sandalphon can only raise his arms in defense he knows to be futile.

Is he going to die?

He’s afraid.

He doesn’t want to die.

Amidst his panic-stricken thoughts, there is one that stands out.

An instinctive cry for help:

_Lucifer-sama……!_

The sound of metal tearing through flesh echoes throughout the shrine as blood splatters onto Canaan’s floor.

The pain that should have accompanied it...never comes.

It is as if time has frozen in Canaan. Sandalphon stares, transfixed, at the sight of Lucifer standing between him and the hooded man--

“...Lu…”

\--and the black blade which has embedded itself into Lucifer’s back.

The hooded figure clicks his tongue.

“Tenacious...”

And then he tears the weapon from Lucifer’s body, and Lucifer falls forward, and Sandalphon feels himself flailing to catch him. Red stains Sandalphon’s fingers as he grapples for a proper hold, trying to support the sudden weight that threatens to knock him onto his back.

“...Lucif…?”

He’s only half aware that his own breaths have become shallow as he tries to process the situation.

“...Sandalphon,” Lucifer’s voice is weak, so weak, so _lacking_ in the power he used to command and it sounds so _wrong,_ “are you...hurt…?”

It’s all Sandalphon can do to shake his head. In spite of his injuries, Lucifer smiles softly.

“I see…” His eyes slowly close. “Thank...goodne...ss…”

“Lu...cifer…?”

He barely hears the sound of his own voice, staring only at the pale, bleeding Lucifer who has fallen completely still in his arms.

“Lucifer?”

Sandalphon speaks a little more loudly this time, shaking him, hoping against hope for a response.

“Lucifer… Lucifer! _Lucifer!”_

His voice grows more desperate with every cry of his name, but Lucifer is silent. Yet Sandalphon keeps trying, _trying_ to wake him up.

“Lu—”

He’s jolted back into reality by the sound of the hooded man’s tongue clicking in irritation.

“He’s far more resilient than I thought he'd be…”

Sandalphon’s head snaps up at the sound of the man’s voice.

“Lucilius’ legacy hasn’t been unsealed yet… Hand him over. I’ll put him out of his misery.”

The words mean nothing to him, yet Sandalphon holds Lucifer closer, glaring at the intruder.

“Do you really think...I’d just give him to you…?!”

“Do _you_ really think a mere drone can stand up to me? You were quaking in your boots just moments ago.”

He hates it. He hates that it’s true. His blood flares at the statement, but he knows he can’t deny it. He also knows that the man is right--that if he was able to injure _Lucifer_ to this extent, then Sandalphon stands no chance against him.

But when his eyes drift to the heavily wounded Lucifer in his arms, the image of his struggle flashes into Sandalphon’s mind, and Sandalphon knows he can’t let go. Not now.

“Heh…” Sandalphon’s mouth twists into a mocking smile. “What happened to sending us off together? Did you already use up all of your strength fighting Lucifer? Or maybe you’re so lacking in confidence that you think you can’t take him from a mere  _ drone _ like me?”

“What a useless assertion. There’s little point in continuing this farce if Lucifer isn’t even awake to bear witness to it. I won’t repeat myself, beast: _hand him over.”_

Sandalphon bares his fangs and growls.

“ _Make me.”_

The man’s fingers twitch, and he slowly raises his spear again.

“So be it.”

But Sandalphon has already begun moving.

He forces his own weary body past its limits and spreads his wings, flapping powerfully enough to kick up a sudden squall of dust and debris. Caught off guard, the hooded figure shields his face and Sandalphon uses that opportunity to sling Lucifer’s arm over his shoulder, hobble to his feet…and _run._

He won’t get far. He knows he won’t. Sandalphon barely remembers the layout of the shrine, and with Lucifer as deadweight on his back, he knows that the hooded figure will catch up to them sooner rather than later. But there has to be somewhere, _something_ he can do to prolong the chase, at least until the Singularities wake up and realize what’s happened--

Sandalphon grinds to a halt as he approaches a dead end.

The pathway before him has succumbed to its age and broken, opening to nothing but empty skies. Sandalphon’s heart sinks as he hears footsteps approaching from behind.

“Are you finished?”

Gnashing his teeth, Sandalphon turns, clutching Lucifer’s arm more tightly around his shoulder. The only other escape route is now blocked by Lucifer’s assailant.

“I’ll dignify your pathetic existence with a quick death…”

No.

There’s still one more place he can go.

The man lunges at them both, but with a single, powerful flap of his wings, Sandalphon propels himself backwards. The black spear misses him by a hair’s breadth as solid ground becomes empty air beneath his feet.

Holding Lucifer close to him, Sandalphon allows himself to plunge over the edge.


	2. Inheritance

For once, fortune is on Sandaphon’s side. His quick and sudden descent leads him to a small ledge protruding out of the island’s base and he furls his wings around himself and the injured Lucifer as gravity and inertia both work in tandem to make the landing as painful as possible.

When they’ve finally rolled to a stop, Sandalphon can only lie winded on his back as he stares up at the shrine they had fallen out of. Canaan’s turbulent winds have blown them a little ways away from the initial point of descent, and the hooded figure doesn’t appear to be following them.

Not yet.

With a groan, Sandalphon forces his heavy body to move and crawls over to Lucifer, who’s lying still close by, then stops as his eyes fall upon Lucifer’s back.

His wings.

What’s left of his wings.

What were once grand symbols of hope and light have been reduced to stumps, bloodied, tattered feathers barely hanging onto their base by sinew. It’s easy to see from the way the bone has been haphazardly hacked into that the action was carried out with spite. It’s a sight that nearly makes the bile rise to Sandalphon’s throat, but he forces it back down.

“Why…? Why did you allow this to happen to yourself?”

Snippets of conversation drift into his mind. _I found it strange how you weren’t even trying to fight back,_ the assassin had said. _It’s because of_ him, the assassin had said.

He doesn’t want to entertain the implication of that thought and turns his attention to Lucifer’s many other wounds. As he gazes upon the remainder of Lucifer’s wings and the large new gash in his back, Sandalphon finds himself cursing his own helplessness. If only he could heal others like Lucifer or Raphael can--

No. There are far more pressing concerns to deal with.

He gingerly places a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder and tries to shake him awake without agitating any of his injuries.

“Lucifer…”

There’s no response. But now that he’s had a chance to breathe, he can tell that Lucifer is still alive, if only just barely. His chances, _both of their chances,_ lie with whether the crew finds them first...or whether that hooded man does.

With that in mind, Sandalphon grasps Lucifer’s hand and slings his arm around his shoulder again, standing up on shaking legs. _This cursed lethargy…_ Even with their difference in size, carrying Lucifer would present little issue to a primal beast like Sandalphon, but his body is still adjusting to having a physical form. Lucifer feels like several tons of lead against his back and it’s all Sandalphon can do to remain standing.

But the memory of Lucifer throwing himself between Sandalphon and his assailant’s blade flashes vividly to mind again, and Sandalphon swallows his misgivings as he begins an arduous trek up the narrow trail.

* * *

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking. Has it been hours? Days? The path to the entrance of the shrine still looks as long as it did before, and Sandalphon wonders whether this area’s penchant for space-time distortion is to blame.

“S...an...da…”

Sandalphon’s heart stops as he hears the weak voice beside his ear. Lucifer has finally begun to stir.

“Lucifer?!”

“...San...da...lph...on…”

“Lucifer--hold on… Don’t try to speak.”

Knowing that Lucifer will insist on it anyway, and deciding that he’s just about at his physical limits for the moment as well, Sandalphon trudges over to a sheltered alcove in the cliffside, then pauses. How can he lay Lucifer down comfortably? His wings and back are injured and the rest of his body is riddled with wounds as well. He barely even knows where and how to hold him to avoid agitating his injuries.

In the end, Sandalphon settles act as Lucifer’s cushion, allowing Lucifer to rest his head against his shoulder as Sandalphon finds a comfortable place against the rock. He barely feels worthy, especially after what happened, but it’s the absolute least he can do when Lucifer quite literally took the hit for him.

“Just rest for now. You’re--to say that you’re injured is an understatement…”

“Where…”

“We’re still in Canaan. We’re not in the shrine anymore, but I’m--I’m trying to get back up. The Singularity--both of them--they’re here with the girl in blue and the red dragon. If we find them, you’ll--”

“Where...are you…?”

Sandalphon’s blood runs cold. Lucifer has managed to raise his head, his eyes are open and he’s staring right at him, and yet…

“Lucifer… I’m right here. I’m right in front of you.”

Lucifer reaches out with a shaking arm, but grasps only at empty air, and Sandalphon realizes with a sinking stomach that Lucifer’s lost his sight. Sandalphon takes Lucifer’s hand and squeezes it. He tries to ignore how cold it is.

“I’m here...”

Lucifer seems to relax slightly at that, leaning against Sandalphon as if to ascertain that he isn’t alone.

“You’re not wounded…?”

Sandalphon shakes his head, then realizes again that Lucifer can’t see it. “No… Why are you still worrying about me? You ought to be more concerned about restoring yourself.”

“I can’t…”

Sandalphon’s heart sinks. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“The wounds he inflicted on me… I can’t regenerate from them…”

“That… That has to be a lie! Someone as powerful as you—you have to be able to! There’s nothing in the world that can fell—”

“Sandalphon…”

Lucifer pulls his hand from Sandalphon’s, reaching for his—where he _thinks_ his face is. The back of his hand brushes against Sandalphon’s jaw, and Sandalphon grasps it again, pressing the palm against his cheek.

“Lucifer… That’s enough already. Just—”

“I’m sorry…”

“What…?” Sandalphon almost wants to laugh in the face of how ridiculously _misplaced_ the apology is. At this point, he would feel simply monstrous for begrudging Lucifer for anything. “For _what?_ What is there for you to apologize for when you--you saved me? Even though I…”

He feels a lump forming in his throat as he speaks and angrily forces it down.

“Even though I’m the reason you were injured to this extent.”

“That’s not true… It’s not your fault… It was my choice to...”

“Enough already!” Sandalphon’s grip tightens on Lucifer’s shoulder. In his frustration, he briefly forgets about Lucifer’s condition, his fingers accidentally digging into a small cut as he gnashes his teeth in frustration. “Why? Why did you even go through such lengths to protect me?! I’m your enemy! I nearly brought down the skies you love more than anything! And yet you still--”

“You were never my enemy, Sandalphon.”

The outburst is quieted by Lucifer’s gentle voice. He’s always like this, Sandalphon thinks, always so calm in the face of everything, so unfaltering in his  _kind_ _ness_ and  _forgiveness_  that he wonders briefly whether Lucifer can actually feel _anything_ for his own sake. But Lucifer continues on, speaking as if every breath will be his last.

“I am also...guilty, Sandalphon… Of the cataclysms, and of selfishness…”

At this point, Lucifer’s just being nonsensical.

“How can you say that? The cataclysms were _my_ doing! Calling yourself selfish at a time like this… Are you just trying to antagonize me further?!”

“A wish…”

Sandalphon pauses, the suddenness of the words catching him off guard.

“A...wish?”

Lucifer nods sadly, his eyes fixed on a distant point in the skies, though he can no longer see it. “I wished... that we may one day live as equals… As people, rather than tools… That we’d be able to drink coffee together again…”

The quiet confession is a new blade in his chest, tearing open a wall of bitter ice and allowing such _yearning_ to flood forth. How many years had he had to stew in his regret in Pandemonium? How many times had he wished for forgiveness that he knew he would never receive, before those wishes ultimately became hatred…

“Was I foolish to wish for such a thing, Sandalphon…?”

Hatred that had never been justified. 2000 years of anger and spite and _suffering_ that, in the end, had amounted to nothing.

2000 years of his own making.

And it is for that that Sandalphon spits out his next words:

“As if you and I could ever be equals…”

A pang of regret hits him the moment they leave his mouth, for a look of sheer _hurt_ crosses Lucifer’s face. If Sandalphon didn’t know any better, Lucifer seems to have felt more pain from the assertion than he does from his injuries.

“...You don’t think we can?” For a moment, Sandalphon wonders whether Lucifer truly can’t see Sandalphon’s face, for his eyes are fixed on Sandalphon’s with frightening accuracy. Sandalphon can see the hurt in dull cerulean as clear as day. “Do you...not want to be…?”

“I…”

“How heartwarming.”

Both Lucifer and Sandalphon tense at the sound of the voice. A shadow has fallen over the small alcove as the hooded man comes into view. Sandalphon’s wings flare and bristle at his appearance as he pulls Lucifer against him.

“You still haven’t had enough?!” Sandalphon growls. The man only scoffs in response.

“Hmph. My goal is and has always been Lucilius’ legacy and Lucifer’s life is the key to unsealing it. You’ve wasted my time sending me on a wild goose chase around this wretched island, but I’ll consider sparing you if you give him to me.”

“Sandalphon,” Lucifer grasps at the fabric of Sandalphon’s hood, an edge of desperation in his voice. “Go… He’s after me. If you run, you can still--”

“Quiet! Just because you’ve given up doesn’t mean I will!” Sandalphon snaps. If there’s a silver lining to the situation, the extended period of rest has allowed some of the strength to return to his body. Sandalphon is able to stand, lifting Lucifer into his arms as he does so.

He can’t fight like this, but he can still--

“You drones simply don’t know when to quit… I’ll have to give Lucilius some credit for creating tools that will only stop when they’ve broken.”

The hooded man lunges forward suddenly but Sandalphon is faster, and a single flap of his wings is all the leverage he needs to leap over the man and take flight, soaring towards the red clouds that hang low over Canaan. 

He overestimates his recovered strength and underestimates the turbulence and lurches as a sudden gale nearly sends him to a messy grave against the cliffside. But he keeps flapping his wings desperately, trying with all of his might to reach the entrance of Canaan, where the Singularities--where he _thinks_ the Singularities--are.

As he ascends rapidly over the island, his fingers glow with what power he can muster and he flings a ball of light into the sky where it rises like a beacon. It flashes as it climbs into the air, bright enough so that it can be seen from a skydom away--or so Sandalphon hopes. 

He has no reason to suspect that Gran and Djeeta would help him, a villain who not only threatened to sink the skies, but kidnapped Lyria and nearly killed all three of them. 

But they’re the only chance that he has.

They’re the only chance that Lucifer has.

“Sandalphon!”

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Lucifer’s urgent voice and it’s only then that he hears the sound of a spear whistling through the air towards him..

He feels a sudden searing pain in his back. He looks back just in time to see the black blade tear a gaping hole into his wing, and his stomach drops at the same time he begins falling.

Lucifer’s own eyes widen as flecks of Sandalphon’s blood fall onto his cheek. Sandalphon watches with dread as they fall past the island, watches the hooded figure recall his black spear to his side and smirk at them on the way down.

Sandalphon’s wing doesn’t restore itself no matter how hard he tries to heal it. For the second time, Sandalphon feels panic overtaking him, reflexively holding Lucifer close to him as they plummet towards the clouds below. There’s nothing beneath them, nothing to break their fall--they’re both hurtling straight towards the Crimson Horizon.

_No… No, no, no…!_

_Not like this! I haven’t—_

~~_I haven’t even been useful to you yet—_ ~~

The wind that roars past his ears as they plunge is as deafening as the pounding in his chest as he fears the worst. But then, he feels Lucifer’s gentle palms against his cheeks, and all of his thoughts suddenly still.

_You will not die for my sake._

He hears Lucifer’s voice as a whisper in his head, becomes ignorant to everything around him as Lucifer frames his face and turns Sandalphon’s head towards his own. Mild bewilderment becomes mixed in with his panic. What is Lucifer doing? And why is he so calm? Why isn’t he angrier, why isn’t he begrudging Sandalphon for failing to--

He’s silenced completely when Lucifer kisses him.

Sandalphon can’t even begin to fathom what has prompted Lucifer to such actions. Once upon a time, he may have dreamed of such a thing, but he doesn’t even have it in him to feel flustered right now, this is _hardly_ the time and place--

Lucifer’s intent becomes clear, for as soon as their lips meet, Sandalphon feels a rush of power coursing through his body. The pain and fatigue wracking it washes away with the warmth that replaces it, and Sandalphon realizes before the six white wings emerge from his back that this is the supreme primarch’s power.

Lucifer’s power.

_I leave my power and the position of supreme primarch to you._

Lucifer’s mouth doesn’t move; he has no more voice to speak with. But Sandalphon can hear him in his mind as Lucifer lets go, smiles at him,

and pushes Sandalphon away.

“Lucifer—?!”

_We must both atone for the cataclysm which struck the skies._

Sandalphon flails uselessly through the air as he reaches out to Lucifer again, trying to grab his hand. He can see the light, the _life_ rapidly fading from his eyes as he falls farther and farther away. 

_My penance is death. Yours is to live on as protector of this realm._

The words strike fear and dread into his heart.

Death?

Is Lucifer going to die?

_And one day...you must carry out what I could not--_

_  
__The destruction of Lucilius’ legacy._  

His mind screams at his body to move, yet it can’t. The supreme primarch’s wings have spread against his will, as if doing everything they possibly can to stop Sandalphon from falling after Lucifer. 

_When all of this is past, I want you to choose your purpose for yourself._

Why is Lucifer speaking of roles and purposes now, when Sandalphon can’t reach him?

Don’t you see, he wants to say. None of that matters if you aren’t here, he wants to say. But try as he might, he can’t find the strength to voice those traitorous thoughts.

Why, of all times, won’t his body obey him now?

_The skies are constantly evolving… Nature will take over our roles, and we primarchs can retire...and simply live._

Though his gentle smile never fades, Lucifer’s eyes slowly close. 

_Yes… It should be this way._

_This is my punishment. I will fall for my failures…and my transgressions against you._

Even so, Sandalphon dives desperately after Lucifer, a hand outstretched, trying with all of his might to reach Lucifer’s hand. The extra weight of the wings works in his favour, he can still--he can still reach--

_But you...will live, Sandalphon._

_You will redeem yourself...because there has always been good within you, and there always will be._

Sandalphon’s eyes grow wide as he hears the words--the blind faith that Lucifer has in him. His mouth opens in a soundless scream as his fingers brush against Lucifer’s--

_And one day_

_perhaps you will come to love this world as much as I did--_

\--and Lucifer’s hand slips away from his at the same time the supreme primarch’s wings spread involuntarily, halting Sandalphon’s fall as he watches helplessly--

_\--as much as I love you._

\--and the confession pierces Sandalphon like a knife, winding him as if he had been dealt a physical blow.

He finally finds his voice, and it escapes him as an anguished scream.

_“LUCIFER-SAMA!!”_

His cry goes unanswered and Lucifer plunges towards the Crimson Horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry be happy


	3. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an interlude of sorts, not as much happening but I felt kind of bad for leaving the last one on such a cliffhanger. Hopefully it isn't too anticlimactic!!

“Do you think Sandalphon will be okay?”

It’s Lyria who voices all of their thoughts as she stares at the cabin door. It’s been days since Sandalphon left it. Movement within is indicated only by the scraping of a chair and some footsteps. The others fall silent at Lyria’s question, unsure of how to answer. It’s Djeeta who breaks the silence.

“Give him some time,” Djeeta says, though the way she fidgets suggests that she is more concerned than she lets on. “I’m sure there’s a lot that he has to come to terms with.”

“Yeah, but the least he could do is come out of the cabin every once in a while,” Vyrn grumbles. “He’s gonna starve to death in there at this rate.”

“I don’t think primal beasts actually need to eat…?” Gran says with uncertainty. “So he’s probably fine. Probably…”

The “probably” weighs over their head as they all heave a collective sigh, all feeling a sense of loss as to what their next course of action should be.

 

* * *

_The black beast rose shortly after their descent, towering over Canaan with a roar that threatened to bring down all of the skies._

_As wretchedly useless as he had been, Sandalphon’s beacon and call for help hadn’t gone unnoticed. Malluel had snatched him before he could attempt to fall any further; Halluel had just barely managed to grab Lucifer before he disappeared below the clouds. It was to be expected, that they had been able to accomplish what Sandalphon couldn’t; archangels of instruction were the informants of the primarchs, gifted with incredible speed and capable of outpacing all primarchs, even six-winged primarchs, on the wing._

_All except for the supreme primarch, that is._

_It was something that Sandalphon would come to ruminate on. Had their roles been reversed, would Lucifer have been able to catch Sandalphon?_

_It went without saying. Of course he would have been able to._

_Sandalphon had already failed to meet Lucifer’s expectations._

_But perhaps he could channel that anger and frustration into felling Lucilius’ legacy and all those who conspired against Lucifer to bring it back. That was what Lucifer asked of him, after all._

_Halluel and Malluel flew them both to the Grandcypher. Gran, Djeeta, Lyria, and Vyrn followed on the Nightcypher soon after. The deck was a bustle of activity; the helmsman trying to gauge the damage to his ship, the child mage attempting to heal Lucifer to the best of her ability, the others discussing the best course of action to face the towering monstrosity whose rampage could not be quelled. But Sandalphon needed only to take one look at the extent of Lucifer’s injuries to allow the rage coursing through his veins to motivate his next actions._

_“You filth…”_

_The supreme primarch’s wings now obeyed his entire command, infuriatingly enough. Without heed for anyone and anything else, he willed himself high into the crimson skies and met his and Lucifer’s adversaries head on._

* * *

The rich scent of coffee wafts throughout a certain cabin in a certain airship as Sandalphon thinks back to the events that had taken place just days ago.

The meddlesome children just outside of his cabin are wrong about one thing; Sandalphon _has_ indeed left his cabin in the past few days, but only to brew coffee, and only after they have all dispersed. A fresh pot sits in the corner of the desk even now, steam rising from its contents. Sandalphon’s finger is looped around the ear of one cup as he stares absentmindedly out the window.

The other cup is on the nightstand beside the bed Lucifer lies on. It’s gone untouched. Lucifer health remains in dire condition, though his life has stabilized, and he is no longer in any immediate danger. Even so, Lucifer hasn’t stirred even once.

He could be asleep if Sandalphon doesn’t know any better--if the basin of blood-soaked bandages at the foot of the bed isn’t an indication of an ailment far worse than fatigue; if the memory of Lucifer desperately trying to fend off his attacker wasn’t so vivid in Sandalphon’s mind.

_Saying your piece, then leaving me without a chance to respond… That’s just unfair._

Sandalphon raises his cup to his lips again, decides against it, then places it next to Lucifer’s with a tired sigh.

“...Your coffee’s gotten cold...Lucifer-sama.”

 

* * *

Though Sandalphon wants nothing more than to stay by Lucifer’s side, he remembers his place. The crew has been compassionate enough to not only allow Lucifer, a near complete stranger, onto their ship, but provide Sandalphon a place to stay despite the tumult of their last encounter. Sandalphon knows to pay his dues and does so without complaint; he reluctantly leaves his cabin whenever he’s called to undertake assignments that Djeeta and Gran see fit to accept. But the moment the task is complete, Sandalphon has disappeared in a flurry of brown feathers, immediately flying back to the Grandcypher to resume his place by Lucifer’s side.

He doesn’t know why he expects anything to change when he returns. He doesn’t know why he bothers to hope to see that the cup of coffee beside Lucifer’s bed is empty, or to see that Lucifer has stirred or rolled over or _something_ to indicate that he is, in fact, alive. But he continues to hope for a change anyway. That hope is the one thing keeping him from spiraling downwards even further than he already has.

 

* * *

On one quiet day, he hears a knock on his door.

“Sandalphon?” Lyria’s meek voice muffled by the wood between them. “I brought some fresh bandages for you in case you needed them.”

“Thanks. You can come inside.”

The door creaks open and Lyria tiptoes in, as if afraid to disturb the resting Lucifer. As promised, she holds a basket of fresh bundle of gauze that she lays on the floor.

“Here you go,” she says. “Um… Dinner’s almost ready, so if you’d like to join us, you can--”

“I’m fine,” is Sandalphon’s immediately reply as he picks up a roll of bandages and places it on the bed in preparation. In practiced motions, he unravels the old ones around the arm closest to him, gingerly peeling away the bloodied fabric from the wound and dropping it into the empty basin by the bed. It’s a routine that Sandalphon has grown accustomed to doing over the past few days; changing Lucifer’s bandages, inspecting the wounds that are barely healing, desperately scrutinizing any minute changes he sees for a sign of better things to come, rinse and repeat ad infinitum--

“You really don’t want to come?”

Sandalphon shakes his head and spares her the biting remark hovering on the tip of his tongue. Lyria _had_ been right about him, about Lucifer, and Sandalphon had been too stubborn to believe it. She has every right to tell him “I told you so,” yet she remains respectfully silent about the whole ordeal. Perhaps it’s out of pity. Sandalphon is certainly paying the price for it now.

He does wonder sometimes if he would have been able to save Lucifer. If he had been a little less uncompromising, if he had been less stubborn, if he had been more willing to listen…

So many “ifs” that he could never see come to fruition.

“I’m a bit busy, as you can see,” he says, voice and eyes dull with the tedium of the task. “Lucifer-sama was injured quite heavily, so it’ll take some time for me to attend to all of his wounds.”

“Are you sure? We can always wait, and I’m sure the others won’t be able to eat right away either… Vane’s on cooking duty tonight, so…!”

“I’m fine. I’m content with staying here.”

I don’t deserve it, is what he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. Sandalphon figures that he already looks pitiful enough without voicing that thought.

He tries to ignore the way Lyria seems to wilt at his cool response. “O-okay,” she says, defeated, but attempts to perk herself up again--he knows it’s for his sake, but at the moment, Sandalphon can’t bring himself to humour her attempts. “I’ll...I’ll ask them to leave some leftovers. Enough for both you and Lucifer, so neither of you miss out on Vane’s cooking!”

Sandalphon doesn’t know what hurts more. The sheer compassion coming from Lyria’s consideration, or the impossible notion of being able to share something with Lucifer again. He’s momentarily winded, stopping in his task as he attempts to collect the shattered parts of himself that have threatened to fall away from him.

“Girl in blue,” he says. He tries to keep his voice from shaking and doesn’t know whether he’s successful. “You’re...certain that Lucifer-sama is still alive?”

“Huh? Um, yes… It’s very faint, but I can still sense that there’s life in him.”

“And all of the best healers on your crew treated what they could of his wounds.”

Lyria nods again, hesitantly. “Yes… Sandalphon, what’s…?”

“Then I wonder why...he hasn’t woken up yet.” Sandalphon’s lips curve into a sardonic smile. “I wonder if he simply doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

A look of pain crosses Lyria’s face as she shakes her head emphatically. “That’s not true! I’m sure he just needs more time. He was hurt really badly…”

“Did you know,” Sandalphon continues, unable to stop himself from voicing the traitorous thought that has parasitized his mind for days, “he asked me if he was foolish. For harbouring a wish. It was something so innocent… So _simple…_ He told me he wanted to live as my equal. And do you know what I told him?”

Sandalphon’s fingers tighten around the bandages he’s holding.

“I told him that it wasn’t possible. And yet, when I think about it... That time in Canaan was the first time he had ever opened his heart to me like that. It was the first time I had ever heard him _admit_ to something that he wanted. And I told him that it wasn’t possible. I spat all over the one wish he had, girl in blue. So he surely must despise me for it...”

“Th-that’s not--” Lyria stammers. “Lucifer wouldn’t…”

“How do you know that? None of you even knew him." His voice grows quiet and his eyes wistful and he adds, "Not even I knew him."

Lyria is left speechless, though Sandalphon can tell from the way she clutches her dress that she is greatly saddened by what Sandalphon tells her. A twinge of guilt strikes him and he sighs.

“...Pay me no mind. You should join the others for dinner.”

“...Okay…”

She sadly slinks away and leaves Sandalphon to his own devices. As expected, it takes upwards of an hour and a half to dress all of Lucifer’s wounds with new bandages. By the he’s done, the sun has trespassed over the horizon and dusk has fallen outside. Sandalphon deigns to stay in his cabin for a few more hours, waiting until the moon’s gentle light begins to filter through the window before taking the basin of soiled bandages to dispose of them.

As he opens the door and steps outside, his foot brushes against something right outside the door. He’s about to curse whichever ill-mannered prankster on this ship has decided to send him into a coma alongside Lucifer (though he bitterly wonders if that would be a better fate than this) until he realizes what it is.

A tray of food, with enough portions for two.

The sight of it is very nearly enough to make Sandalphon crumble. He foregoes his intended trip and retreats back into the cabin with the tray in tow, then places Lucifer’s portion on the nightstand beside him. He takes his own and sinks back into the chair by the bed.

“Nonsense,” he mutters, only confident to show the fragility of the smile on his face while he’s certain that no one is looking. “The people on this crew… They’re fools. All of them…”

Against his better judgement, he raises the spoon to his lips and takes a bite. A full spectrum of flavour floods his mouth instantly, a mix of savoury and salty and sweet. The bitterness, then, must be of Sandalphon’s own making.

“...It’s delicious, Lucifer-sama.”

Lucifer doesn’t stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE it wasn't so bad! hahahahaha


	4. Fallen

Life on the Grandcypher becomes routine. Pain becomes a vague sense of acceptance, and Sandalphon stops hoping for Lucifer to awaken. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t spend every possible waking second with the former supreme primarch. But rather than repeat the torturous cycle of checking Lucifer’s condition, watching him for signs of movement, then eventually falling into a fitful nightmare-ridden sleep over and over again, he begins telling Lucifer of his time with the crew; their travels across the skies, the islands they dock in, assignments with strange and funny twists to them.

Lucifer never answers, and Sandalphon doesn’t hope that he will anymore. But he does hope that, somehow, Lucifer _is_ listening...that he’ll have stories to envision and entertain himself with as he slumbers.

* * *

 

Sandalphon becomes more acquainted with the Grandcypher’s crew, though with most of the members, it is only in passing. He knows the crew regulars well enough by now--it’s hard not to, especially when the young captains insist on inserting themselves into his life--but still chooses to spend most of his time in his cabin by Lucifer’s side.

It’s an improvement, Djeeta and Gran think, though that doesn’t mean it’s without complications. One day, Vyrn catches Gran looking rather pensive, his brow furrowed deep in thought as he paces about the empty mess hall.

“Gran? What’s gotcha in a fuss?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just…” He frowns as he puts a hand to his chin. “I don’t think Sandalphon has met Lucio yet. I feel like we should give him _some_ kind of warning… But I have no idea how to tell him.”

“Ough… Yeah, if he runs into Spangles, he’s gonna flip… It ain’t gonna be pretty...”

The two are interrupted when a black blur shoves its way past them with little regard for the both of them. Gran catches himself before he falls over, and the sheer force with which the perpetrator has shoved their way past them elicits a yelp from Vyrn.

“Whoa! Are you okay, Vyrn? ...Huh, was that Azazel?”

“Hey, Ashes!” Vyrn says, now in a fury as he launches himself from Gran’s arms. “What’s the big idea! You coulda knocked us over!”

If Azazel hears him, he doesn’t show it, instead marching down the hall with single-minded purpose. From the dark expression on the self-proclaimed demon’s face, Gran can tell that a storm is brewing, sure to make landfall at wherever Azazel sees fit to unleash it.

“He was headed straight towards Sandalphon’s cabin,” Gran muses uneasily, though he goes unheard by anyone else. Vyrn has already started after Azazel, and Gran follows them both.

* * *

 

“Hey--hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Get out of my way.”

A commotion has broken out at one of the cabins. Djeeta and Lyria, being drawn to the noise, appear at the door just in time to see Azazel shoving Sandalphon unceremoniously aside and entering the room. Sandaphon recovers quickly and grabs Azazel’s arm.

“You! You have some nerve barging in here and--”

“Shut it!” Azazel snaps as he wrenches his arm away from Sandalphon. He glares at the archangel before turning to Lucifer. The former supreme primarch continues to lie still in bed, the tranquility on his expression belied by the bandages wrapped around wounds that still haven’t recovered. The fierceness from Azazel’s violet eyes seems to fade at the sight, replaced by something akin to painful remorse and regret.

“Lucifer-sama…”

At the sound of that address, Sandalphon falls silent, hearing himself in Azazel’s tone of voice. Any sympathy he has for the fallen angel vanishes, though, the moment Azazel turns on him again.

“You… What did you do to him?”

 _“...What?”_ Sandalphon scoffs. “What nonsense is this? You think _I’m_ responsible?”

“Don’t you dare play dumb with me! It’s vague, but I remember your voice, _Sandalphon_ … I _know_ you were there during the rebellion! You turned against Lucifer-sama and sought to destroy everything that he loved!”

Sandalphon’s temper flares at the memory, now a mark of shame among his many sins. “Oh…?” he says, his voice dangerously low. “Then why don’t you explain your _sorry appearance_ to me? Were you not one of the fallen angels who also rebelled against Lucifer-sama? You’re no better than I am.”

“Don’t you dare put us on the same level as you! I was fighting to _save_ him, not to hurt him!”

Djeeta and Lyria, who remain yet unnoticed, watch in trepidation as archangel and fallen angel trade verbal blows. Lyria tugs on Djeeta’s sleeve with uncertainty.

“Didn’t Azazel say he forgot everything about his past…?”

Djeeta shakes her head. “Who knows… He regained those black wings that one time, didn’t he? Maybe that has something to do with it?”

They turn back to the two, unsure of how to intervene. Sandalphon has begun speaking again.

“That’s absolutely _ludicrous,_ and you know it. But fine, then, _humour me:_ if you are Lucifer-sama's esteemed guardian, then where were you when he fought for his life in Canaan? Where were you when he suffered under his assailant’s blade? _Where were you_ when he fell from the skies?”

Azazel’s eyes widen, and Sandalphon’s lips twist into a cruel smile not unlike the one he wore during his own personal rampage.

“That’s right. _You weren’t there._ _You_ didn’t save him. _You_ didn’t protect him. So don’t you _dare_ lecture me. Your inaction is as much to blame as mine is!”

“What did you say…?!”

“Hey, break it up…!” Sensing that the disagreement is escalating, Djeeta attempts to step in then, trying to wedge herself between the two, but her efforts are rendered moot when Azazel shoves her aside and grabs Sandalphon by the collar. But Sandalphon continues on, completely undaunted in the face of Azazel’s hulking figure which towers over his own.

“In fact, what’s stopping you from betraying Lucifer-sama again? You still bear this tainted appearance. For all I know you could be conspiring against him while he’s weakened and vulnerable!”

“You incorrigible _brat...!”_ Azazel’s expression seems to contort with anger, his eyes blazing violently as he finally yells. _“LUCIFER-SAMA IS THE ONLY ONE WHO’S EVER MATTERED TO ME!”_

Azazel’s voice reverberates through the tiny cabin, and all current inhabitants fall silent as the words sink in. Fallen angel and archangel glare at one another before Djeeta tries to intervene again.

“I think you've made your point--” she says, her voice strained as she attempts to pry the two apart. Her voice falls on deaf ears. Azazel is still glaring at Sandalphon, but Sandalphon has barely flinched despite bearing the brunt of Azazel’s tirade. When the archangel speaks again, it is in spite--but it is also with quiet resentment and resignation.

“You think...that I don’t feel the same way?”

He is sure to fix his crimson eyes on Azazel’s violet ones as he speaks. He doesn’t know why he bothers. All of the skies already sees Sandalphon as the villain. He doesn’t know why he’s so determined to prove his point to a fallen angel. Sandalphon wonders sourly whether he simply wants his intentions to be known after everything that transpired in Canaan; that once upon a time, he may have wanted to see Lucifer on his knees, to acknowledge that he _meant something,_ that he was worth something. At his lowest, he had wanted to make Lucifer pay for seeing him as useless scrap. 

He had gotten all of that in Canaan, and it was everything that he hadn’t wanted.

_He never wanted Lucifer’s wings. He never wanted to see Lucifer falling to his doom. He never wanted Lucifer to be so near death that he would no longer wake._

_He had never wanted to be proven wrong about Lucifer's feelings about him in so cruel a fashion._

_All he had wanted was…_

Sandalphon doesn’t know what sort of look is in his eyes, and whether it’s that look that causes Azazel to relent. But after several more moments of strained silence, Azazel’s grip on him loosens. The fallen angel looks like he wants to say something else, but they’re both interrupted by Lyria’s quivering voice.

“Um…! Lucifer must have cared deeply about the both of you for you to love him so much, so I’m sure he wouldn’t want to see you two fighting like this…!”

Her words effectively defuse the situation; both Azazel and Sandalphon pause at that, glancing at Lyria, then back to each other. Azazel takes an additional look at the slumbering Lucifer before clicking his tongue and shoving Sandalphon back and storming out of the room. Djeeta breathes a sigh of relief, but Lyria continues watching Azazel as he brushes past Vyrn and Gran, who had just arrived.

“Gyaah!” Vyrn cries as he’s nearly knocked out of the air by the disgruntled fallen for the second time. “Would ya watch where you’re going for once! You’re really askin’ for it now, Ashes!”

Gran sighs, deciding to leave Vyrn to his own devices before he heads to Djeeta’s side. He needs only take one glance at the despondent Sandalphon to know that he just barely missed the confrontation. “What happened in here?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Djeeta says. Both twins watch Sandalphon uneasily as he settles back into the chair beside Lucifer’s bed, not saying another word, or even sparing the two a glance.

Unbeknownst to all of them, a pair of scarlet eyes watches the exchange from the shadows. Their owner disappears before anyone can catch wind of her there, her copper tresses flowing behind her. 

* * *

 

Night falls over the Grandcypher once again. The hustle and bustle of the crew dies down to silence with nothing but the hum of the ship’s engine reverberating through the wood. Most of the members have retired to their cabins for the night to allow yet another satisfying and delicious meal to settle as some prepare for the voyage the next day.

But not all activity has stilled. A lone woman walks quietly through the darkened halls, stopping before a certain cabin. She has ascertained that the first of its two inhabitants has vacated it for now and hesitates only for a moment before opening the door. The only thing that greets her is silence--and the sight of Lucifer in bed.

Moonlight falls over Olivia’s face as she walks closer and closer...until she’s standing at the bedside. She watches the former supreme primarch’s sleeping face, as if daring him to awaken. He doesn’t.

Even with the sight right before her, Olivia finds it hard to believe that Lucifer could be so vulnerable, so _helpless,_ when her most vivid memories of Lucifer are of him decimating legions upon legions of fallen angels without effort or hesitation. Her fingers dig into her palms at the bitter defeat and the darkness that came after. The cries of her brethren still echo in her dreams as they did on Pandemonium’s walls, haunting her at night, reminding her of her purpose, that her time with the crew is limited--that the frivolities she has developed a soft spot for are only temporary, and she can only spend so much time in wait.

It would be so simple, so _easy_ to end Lucifer’s life right here. She could summon her swords and plunge them into Lucifer’s chest and shatter his core. It would eliminate the greatest threat to herself and her brethren in an instant. And yet, methods so underhanded don’t sit well with her. Olivia finds her mind involuntarily wandering to the young captains as well; how devastated they would be to know that they had provided asylum for someone at the doorstep of death, only for him to die under their watch, and by the hands of someone they thought that they could trust no less…

It is for that that Olivia hesitates.

The hesitation costs her.

She notices too late the heels tapping on wood, the door closing behind her.

“I wonder, is an utter lack of basic etiquette a shared trait among you fallen angels? This is the second time one of you have decided to enter the cabin without asking.”

Olivia turns slowly to meet Sandalphon’s piercing stare. Sandalphon stands between her and the doorway, a pot of fresh coffee in hand. Olivia’s eyes do not betray her intentions, remaining unreadable as she tries to gauge Sandalphon’s.

Sandalphon gives her a crooked smile.

“Those Singularities… They really are overly trusting and naive children to have allowed not one, but two of you on board. But I suppose it’s for that same reason that I’m here too.” His eyes glint at the moonlight, never once leaving Olivia’s. “Now tell me. What exactly were you planning on doing to Lucifer-sama?”

“You mistake my intentions,” Olivia responds coolly, not missing a beat. “The supreme primarch--Lucifer and I once stood on opposite sides, yes… But he is a guest here, much like myself. I would never dream of doing anything to him while we both reside on this ship by the captains’ kindness. I simply wanted to confirm for myself that someone so powerful was truly in such a state…”

“Oh? He and I have been on board for a few weeks now. You could’ve easily confirmed it much earlier. I’m sure word spreads throughout this ship quite quickly,” Sandalphon says. “I also don’t see why you chose to visit under the cover of night rather than just visiting during the day. Do you dislike attention that much?”

Olivia sniffs in the face of the interrogation. Sandalphon is trying to corner her into confessing, but she remains composed, her visage steely. “Hm. Yes. Word travels rather quickly on the Grandcypher. So as you could imagine, I heard of your argument with Azazel this afternoon.”

Sandalphon falls silent and Olivia continues on. “Hearing you treat my fellow fallen angel with such aggression...made me reluctant to want to seek audience with you. Neither of us want anything more to do with our 2000 year-old conflict, so surely you could understand why I would want to avoid a similar confrontation with you.”

It’s a lie, and Olivia regrets that she’s able to tell it so easily. Sandalphon continues to stare at her before walking towards her. She doesn’t move until he is right upon her--

“Mortals seem to enjoy blowing things far out of proportion, don’t they?”

\--and he brushes past, setting the pot of coffee on the nightstand.

“They like to misconstrue the actual course of events too. Mind you, it was Azazel who started it. My, as you say, ‘aggression’ towards him was only in retaliation to his accusations.”

Olivia turns her head to see Sandalphon taking a seat in the vacant chair beside the bed. He seems to be willing to let it drop, though Olivia is reluctant to let her guard down just yet.

“Well, you’ve confirmed for your own eyes the sorry state Lucifer-sama is in,” Sandalphon says dismissively. “There’s no reason for you to keep standing there, is there?”

He casts the fallen angel a sidelong glance. 

“Unless...you really did come for a different reason?”

The gaze pierces right through Olivia; a look that implies that he suspects more than he lets on, and Olivia knows that she can't risk lingering any longer lest her motives come uncovered.

“...No. I’ll be taking my leave now,” Olivia says, and despite her position, her voice is calm. She turns on her heel and leaves the room. She doesn’t dare to meet Sandalphon’s eyes again.

* * *

 

The crisp night air greets Olivia as she steps onto the deck of the Grandcypher. The night is calm, and the skies are clear; a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within Olivia’s chest.

She sighs, leaning against the railing and staring into the dark sky. _So close…_ She had been so close. And yet her hesitation cost her her chances, her brethren’s chances to be free of their thousand-year enemy--

“Having trouble?”

A sly voice drifts from the shadows cast by the ship's sails and mast. Olivia starts at the sound of it, foreign yet familiar. She immediately wills her black blades into existence and takes a stance and faces the figure cloaked in darkness, but the newcomer raises his arms as a sign of truce.

“Whoa, whoa! Hold on! I’m not here to fight. I’m on your side… Don’t you remember who I am? Well, I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. It’s been 2000 years, after all.”

Olivia’s eyes widen. “What… Don’t tell me you’re…?”

“That’s right.” Even in the limited light, Olivia can just barely make out the fanged grin spreading into existence. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Olivia?”

“I apologize for my aggression…” She quickly sheathes her swords, adopting a more respectful tone. “Truth be told, I...suspected you were no longer of this world.”

“You’re as stiff as ever… You can loosen up around me, you know? But again, I don’t blame you for thinking that. Lucifer was very... _thorough._ He made sure to cover all his bases. Wasn’t satisfied until all of the fallen angels were dead or sealed away.”

“Is there a reason that you’re here?” Olivia asks cautiously. “You’re aware that the skydwellers see you as your enemy, aren’t you? Sandalphon is also here. He won’t take too kindly to your presence. If they find you here, you’ll be outnumbered.”

“Oh, I’m aware. That’s why I needed your help.”

“What? Mine…?”

“That’s right. You’re trying to free the fallen angels from Pandemonium, aren’t you? Our goals align. We’ve been kinda on the receiving end of Lucifer’s blade for thousands of years. But there’s something that you can do for me that’ll turn the tides in our favour… That’ll let us come out on top, so to speak.”

A deep chuckle as blood red eyes glint in the shadows.

“And it’s something that only _you_ can do. Your brethren, _our_ brethren--their lives depend on whether you can pull this off for me. So what say you we re-ignite that old flame and work together once again?”

Olivia’s answer comes without much more hesitation.

“Tell me what you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *me shooting myself in the foot multiple times trying to write characters i have no experience writing*


	5. Recollection

_Lucifer is falling._

_The former supreme primarch’s wings are in tatters, useless to him as he plunges. Sandalphon dives after him, hand outstretched as he attempts to grasp Lucifer’s. No matter how hard he tries, the supreme primarch’s wings don’t obey him, lying stiff and still on Sandalphon’s back._

_“Lucifer-sama! Grab my hand!”_

_Lucifer doesn’t move to take it. His azure eyes dull, he only looks sadly at Sandalphon as he falls farther and farther away._

_“Sandalphon...”_

_Below them, the clouds suddenly give way to barren red earth--the Crimson Horizon._

_And then, the earth turns black as an amorphous beast writhes into existence. It rises out of the ground and takes the shape of the gargantuan monster: the black beast that they had fought at Canaan. And Lucifer is falling right towards it._

_Sandalphon desperately tries to the supreme primarch’s wings and propel himself forwards but it only seems to slow his descent further. Lucifer is just barely out of reach, Sandalphon’s fingers only brushing against Lucifer’s as he falls._

_“Lucifer-sama!” Sandalphon’s voice is panic-stricken as he makes another futile attempt to grasp Lucifer’s hand. “Please! Take my hand! Or you’ll--!”_

_An earth-shattering roar sounds below them. The Avatar has reached its full height, then opens a gaping maw lined with rows of serrated teeth. Lucifer smiles as he falls towards it._

_“My penance is death. Yours is to live on as protector of this realm…”_

_Sandalphon knows what’s coming. He’s heard the same words every single night ever since Lucifer uttered them the first time._

_“This is how it should be._

_“I will fall for my failures...and my transgressions against you.”_

_And yet he’s still as desperate to prevent the inevitable, mouth open in a silent scream as they both continue to fall--as Lucifer plunges towards the Avatar and to his doom._

_“And perhaps one day...you will come to love this world as much as I did--_

_\--as much as I love you.”_

_The Avatar’s jaws clamp shut on Lucifer’s body, sending a shower of blood raining down all around them and Sandalphon nearly deafens himself with his own screams--_

Sandalphon jolts awake in his cabin on the Grandcypher.

His core pounding in his chest, he stands up from his seat and ignores the stiffness in his back and neck as he looks wildly around the room, and it’s only when his eyes settle upon the sleeping Lucifer that he’s able to begin calming down.

_Another dream…_

Sandalphon sinks back down into the chair, inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm himself down. Yes, Lucifer is there, he’s _here_ , he’s not in any danger of dying. This is reality.

And yet, Sandalphon still can’t stop the shaking in his limbs or the cold sweat that he has broken out in. All he can do is affirm that Lucifer is, indeed, still there and still alive.

He begins to reach for Lucifer’s hand but stops short and withdraws his arm.

He hadn’t been able to grasp Lucifer’s hand when it mattered most. He has no right to do so now.

 

* * *

Sandalphon does not ease into his new role so much as he is flung into it, and with every meeting with the other primarchs, he feels the weight of Lucifer’s responsibilities bearing down on him. There are several occasions, far more than he likes, when he’s at a loss for what to do--it’s then that Michael steps in to help him. Their relationship is still strained, and rightfully so; Michael had borne the brunt of Sandalphon’s sadistic streak, and it’s not something that she’s keen to forget. However, she helps Sandalphon without complaint, offering sound advice when she senses him struggling, her personal gripes with the new supreme primarch never affecting her judgement.

Sandalphon can only hope he will find it in himself to thank her one day--that she would accept his gratitude one day.

As he returns to the Grandcypher after a long day of toil, he finds himself thankful that he has a place to seek refuge in for reprieve.

As he lies in his mattress, he wonders briefly whether Lucifer ever had such a luxury.

 

* * *

There are nights that pass without sleep--some nights, Sandalphon would rather _not_ sleep, so as to avoid the nightmares that plague him. This night is one of them. Sandalphon watches dusk turn to midnight and eventually into dawn before deciding to head out of his cabin for his daily rounds, though in the limited light and his own weariness, doesn’t notice the black shape at the foot of the door, nearly trips over it, and elicits a yelp both from the figure and himself.

“Gyaah…!”

“What in the…?!” Upon regaining his balance, Sandalphon’s eyes search the dark floor to find none other than Azazel, who’s now nursing the side that Sandalphon inadvertently kicked in his stupor. “You! What are you doing here?!”

“What do you think?! I’m guarding the door to Lucifer-sama’s room!”

“That’s not even necessary! I’m enough to protect him!”

“You were _just_ going to leave him alone in the room!”

“I _know_ the dangers!” Sandalphon retorts, thinking back to Olivia’s surprise visit. “Do you think I haven’t taken the necessary precautions?!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, brat!”

Their bickering is interrupted by a very tired, very cranky Djeeta who storms out of her room to give both Sandalphon and Azazel a piece of her mind.

Such occurrences begin fading into normalcy with time. The days that have dragged on into weeks creep by until a month has passed. Though there’s no change in Lucifer’s condition, Azazel becomes a constant, insisting on spending his free time hovering around outside the room (or inside, if Sandalphon is feeling charitable enough; he rarely is).

Three months pass, time that should come and go in the blink of an eye for an immortal being, yet for Sandalphon, they drag on so slowly. Progress with the fallen angels’ schemes is slower than Sandalphon would like; equally slow is the return of the supreme primarch’s power and the white wings that haven’t graced his back since the battle in Canaan. He makes the most of it. Sightings of Sandalphon out and about on the Grandcypher become more frequent as he becomes more resigned to the notion that there _won’t_ be progress until the fallen angels make a move, nor will Lucifer wake any time soon.

Struck by an overwhelming sense of helplessness, Sandalphon deigns to make as many memories as he can, memories of the skies that Lucifer loved so much. It’s one thing that he can do for Lucifer--the _only_ thing he can do.

If Lucifer will even be interested in listening to him when-- _if--_ he ever awakens.

 

* * *

“Sandalphon, is it really okay for you to come along with us?”

Lyria’s voice snaps Sandalphon out of his daze as he and the azure-haired girl wait for Gran and Djeeta to receive the details of their latest assignment from Sierokarte. He smiles sardonically.

“What’s this? Do you not want me here after all, girl in blue?”

Lyria grows flustered at the quip. “I-it’s not that! But we know you’ve been getting really busy with the other primarchs lately, since you’ve been meeting with them more and more…”

“It was a joke. There’s nothing to worry about. I owe your crew too; the least I could do is pitch in if the Singularities can’t be bothered to find anyone better suited for the job.”

“That’s not the only reason Gran and Djeeta asked you to come! We all also want you here…”

“Heh. Kind of you to say.”

Even Lyria can detect the jaded tone of Sandalphon’s voice, and her cheeks puff out in childish-looking discontentment. However, before she can get in a word edgewise, they are interrupted by a flock of sparrows passing by overhead. The songbirds chirp and sing as they land and begin foraging for seed in the grass.

“Wow! Look at all the birds!” Lyria’s ire forgotten, she carefully approaches the flock until she’s a safe distance away and kneels down to look at them. “Hehe… They’re so cute! Hey, their wings kind of look like yours, Sandalphon!”

Sandalphon falls silent as the statement stirs a long-forgotten memory.

 

* * *

" _Sandalphon, I haven’t seen your wings lately. Why do you hide them?”_

_They were in their garden as usual, Lucifer and Sandalphon both. Sandalphon, much more naive and timid then, seemed to shrink back at the question._

_“N-no reason, Lucifer-sama. I noticed that the other primarchs don’t bare their wings around you either, so I thought I’d do the same as a sign of respect…”_

_A look of genuine surprise crossed the supreme primarch’s face. “Is that why they usually conceal their wings around me?” he asked, and Sandalphon looked up curiously as well._

_“Isn’t it…? I don’t think anyone wants to overshadow your grace… Not that you can be outshone to begin with, but...”_

_“I see. If that’s the case, then I will have to clear this misconception up. I don’t want them to adopt such a mindset.”_

_“Huh? Do you mean...you didn’t ask them to hide their wings around you…?”_

_“I don’t enforce such a rule, no.” Lucifer smiled gently down at Sandalphon. “That applies to you too, Sandalphon. You don’t have to hide them around me. Isn’t it more comfortable to leave them out?”_

_“Ah… Well…”_

_Sandalphon averted his eyes and made no move to spread his wings. Lucifer tilted his head, watching the smaller primarch expectantly._

_“What’s wrong? Is there another reason you choose to conceal them?” A pause, before Lucifer added, “Sandalphon, you can relay your troubles to me. I’m here to support you.”_

_Reassured by Lucifer’s gentle voice, Sandalphon let out a small sigh, allowing his shoulders to sag a little._

_“It’s just… My wings are rather dull beside the other primarchs’ wings, aren’t they?” he said. “Everyone else’s wings look so grand, but mine look so...drab in comparison.”_

_Lucifer’s face falls. “Oh. Do you dislike them? I apologize. I didn’t mean to cause you grief by designing your wings in such a fashion...”_

_“Ah--no, no! Not at all! Your design sense is perfect, Lucifer-sama! I have no qualms about my wings looking the way they do! It was just an observation…”_

_“Really?” Luckily, it didn’t take much to convince Lucifer. Sandalphon was grateful for once that Lucifer lacked the ability to take anything at other than face value. “That’s a relief. I abhor the thought of my lack of foresight bringing you sadness.”_

_“N-not at all... But, um…” Sandalphon shyly looked up at Lucifer again. “May I ask...why do my wings look the way they do? I understand that I have no role and that I’m not connected to any one element, so of course my appearance would reflect that… But why are the differences so stark?”_

_“You are asking me with what basis I chose to design you.” Lucifer hummed pensively. “I suppose...I drew some of my inspiration from the natural world.”_

_“The natural world…?”_

_“Yes.” As he spoke, Lucifer noticed a sparrow that had landed on the ground near their table. He smiled, leaned down, and reached a hand towards it. The sparrow hopped onto his finger without hesitation and he raised his hand again._

_“Look, Sandalphon. Look at how small this sparrow is.”_

_Sandalphon nodded. The sparrow’s girth was barely half of Lucifer’s finger even as it fluffed its feathers in contentment on its new perch._

_“Its tiny body is so fragile… Its life can end in an instant,” Lucifer continued. “And yet still, it spreads its wings. Still, it flies into the unknown without fear.” As if to illustrate his point, the sparrow stretched its wings in preparation for a long flight ahead. Sandalphon took note of the colour of its pinions; a chestnut brown with a cream-coloured strip of feathers down the middle of the wing._

_He realized just how much those tiny wings resembled his own._

_The sparrow took off, and Lucifer allowed it to flutter away into the sky, watching with fondness as it flew. “Sparrows must flee from predators, survive the hardships of colder seasons, and endure flights of long distances to find more bountiful areas. And yet they have existed for so long in spite of it. They have evolved to become resilient, much as the rest of the skies have. They are unbridled by the things that bind us primarchs to our roles. They can reach heights that we cannot even imagine.”_

_A feeling stirred within Sandalphon’s chest as he watched Lucifer’s wistful expression, his beautiful, glossy blue eyes as Lucifer turned his fond gaze back to him and smiled serenely at him. He couldn’t tear his eyes from that smile even if he tried._

_“I had thought,” Lucifer said, “that perhaps you would be able to reach such heights too, one day in the future… That you would realize potential that is beyond even my grasp._

_“I hope you don’t think any less of me for designing you with such things in mind, Sandalphon.”_

 

* * *

“Sandalphon?”

Lyria’s voice jolts Sandalphon out of his reverie once again, and Sandalphon looks up, somewhat disoriented. “Yes?”

“Is everything okay…?”

“It’s nothing. Pay me no mind. Ah… Looks like they’re on their way again.”

“Oh…!”

Lyria laughs in delight as the sparrows take flight all around her. One lags behind, slow to take off and a little closer to Lyria and Sandalphon than the others were.

Sandalphon kneels down slowly and reaches for the sparrow, but it quickly flutters away from him, joining the rest of its flock in the skies. He watches it pensively as it slowly vanishes into the sky.

Lucifer had loved the world. And in turn, the world loved him.

How could Sandalphon ever compare?

How could he meet Lucifer’s expectations?

Though the supreme primarch’s wings are gone for the moment--they have refused to manifest for the past three months--he feels them on his back like a phantom weight much heavier than they should be.

 

* * *

_Sometimes he dreamed of other things._

_Dreams that weren’t horrific nightmares of the day he failed. Dreams that weren’t even dreams, but fragments of memory of a time long past. Lucifer’s memory._

_He saw Lucifer and Belial when they had been the only two primal beasts to exist. He followed Lucifer as the budding supreme primarch segued into his role. He watched Lucifer pursue enemies of the skies relentlessly. He saw Lucifer toiling to lead the primarchs and bring peace to the world without a single shred of consideration towards his own well being. He watched Lucifer shed the blood of scores upon scores of enemies, watched him endure horrific injuries that could’ve destroyed even a lesser primarch, watched him take the brunt of the Astrals’ derision for the sake of his primarchs, watched him research and work without rest. He watched the other primarchs turning to Lucifer time and time again, watched as eyes that had been once so bright and full of life slowly grow darker, more exhausted. He watched Lucifer observing other primarchs when he had a moment to spare, noted the lonely look in his eyes as the supreme primarch gazed longingly at primarchs fraternizing with one another while having no one to stand beside him._ _The images drifted in a sea of white, vestiges of a past that Sandalphon was only realizing that he had barely known despite having spent many days at Lucifer’s side, seeing his smile._

_He observed the events that led to the formation of the fallen angels._

_He saw Lucifer, blood all over him as he watched Lucilius’ body crumple to the ground at his feet._

_He felt nothing towards the Astral’s fate; it was a long time coming, in fact. But Sandalphon had known that Lucifer was fond of Lucilius, treating him as a longtime friend. Lucilius in turn had been more lenient towards Lucifer, showing far more respect to his greatest creation than he did to even his fellow Astrals. Yes--Lucilius might have been Lucifer’s only friend._

_And yet Lucifer had struck him down without hesitation._

_He had hidden his true feelings until the moment all of the life had left Lucilius’ body. And then...Sandalphon watched as Lucifer sank onto his knees and held Lucilius’ corpse close to him. Sandalphon couldn’t see the look on Lucifer’s face. He didn’t know if he wanted to._

_It was painful enough seeing Lucifer crumble so pitifully only when he was certain no one was watching._

_“Lucifer-sama… How much did you endure on your own…?”_

_The vision faded, and the world swam; archways morphed into trees, and the cold marble beneath Sandalphon’s feet became grass. He knew this place like the back of his hand--even after 2000 years, the fondness he held for it had yet to diminish._

_The garden._

_But something was different about it. The plants, which Lucifer and Sandalphon had put great time into and taken care of together, were beginning to become overgrown. Vines crept around the pillars without regard, weeds sprouted among flowers, and branches encroached areas that were once free of vegetation._

_And Lucifer…_

_Lucifer sat alone at their table._

_Before him was a cup of coffee. Across from him was a second cup. But the second chair was empty._

_Sandalphon wasn’t there._

_This was a vision of Lucifer after the rebellion._

_Filled with bitter yearning, Sandalphon allowed his feet to carry him over to Lucifer’s side. He knew that this Lucifer would never be able to perceive him, and yet he wanted to be closer. It was then that he caught a glimpse of Lucifer’s expression, and if Sandalphon had had a heart, it surely would’ve stopped beating at the sight then and there._

_Lucifer’s eyes were dark, filled with what Sandalphon could only describe as utter desolation. He stared hollowly down at his own cup of coffee, and Sandalphon saw that it had gone so long untouched that steam no longer rose from it._

_How long had Lucifer been sitting here alone?_

_“...I wonder what this feeling is…”_

_Sandalphon froze upon hearing Lucifer’s quiet voice. He could hear neither the authoritative power he used to command the primarchs, nor the gentle tone he adopted around Sandalphon. No, instead, Lucifer simply sounded so_ lost.

_“I wonder if you would know what it is,” Lucifer said, raising his head as his weary, exhausted eyes drifted to the vacant seat before him. “I wonder...if you would be able to tell me… If only…I had asked you…”_

_Even more heartrending still was Lucifer’s visage, which looked as if it was on the verge of shattering._

_“...If only you were here...Sandalphon…”_

_He couldn’t stand it._

_He wanted to reach out. He was gripped with the urge to simply_ embrace _the supreme primarch, to do anything he could to rid his face of that anguished expression. But white was beginning to creep into his vision once again. Even as Sandalphon extended an arm, Lucifer and the garden were already in the distance and moving farther and farther away. No matter how much Sandalphon tried to run, he couldn’t reach Lucifer._

_His vision faded into darkness._

 

* * *

Sandalphon opens his eyes to the wooden ceiling of his cabin once again, budding pain in his chest as he sits up slowly and rises from his mattress and takes his usual seat beside Lucifer’s bed. A wave of remorse washes over him as Sandalphon observes Lucifer’s sleeping face. The former supreme primarch looks so peaceful in slumber, and yet, and yet, the image of his expression contorted with despair is so vivid in Sandalphon’s mind still.

When they had confronted one another after 2000 years, Lucifer had been the perfect picture of composure.

He had always been, for as long as Sandalphon had known him.

But now, he questions whether that had always been just a facade.

He finds himself wondering how many times Lucifer had masked such pain behind his serenity.

Sandalphon reaches out and this time, he’s able to grasp Lucifer’s hand and allow their fingers to intertwine.

Regret grips Sandalphon’s heart as his mind drifts to the pain that Lucifer must have masked—

—the pain that Sandalphon contributed to.

He had wondered whether Lucifer had ever had the luxury of reprieve from his duties, and Sandalphon realizes now that he _himself_ was that reprieve, that temporary relief that Lucifer had so desperately sought out. And now, when Lucifer is right before him, when Sandalphon finally _knows_ what Lucifer was thinking, when there’s so much that Sandalphon wants to say, to apologize for,

Lucifer can’t return the hold.

Sandalphon brings Lucifer’s hand to his forehead and closes his eyes.

_Penance… Punishment… You were right._

_There’s no greater punishment than an eternity without you._


	6. Imperfection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize just how long I'd been sitting on this chapter but it's been almost a month since I updated huh... I kept on rewriting a lot of parts but I figured I'd keep doing that if I didn't just Post It so I'm gonna just bite the bullet and let my future self deal with the consequences!

The passing of seasons, Sandalphon learns, highlights the fleetingness of life in the imperfect, ever-changing skies.

To an immortal primal beast, days should pass as seconds, months as minutes--barring the 2000 years that crept by as he rotted in Pandemonium, of course. And yet he sees the crew living each and every day to the fullest, living as if it might be their last. The twin Singularities, Lyria, Vyrn, as well as the myriad of misfits that have drifted from every corner of the skies onto the Grandcypher find every reason to celebrate each day as one that will never come again. While such is grounded in truth, Sandalphon, who spent much of his early existence counting the days and waiting in the ageless Astral labs in anticipation of his beloved creator’s next visit, can’t quite wrap his head around the notion.

Yet he sees it again and again throughout the skies. Spring warms into summer, and the Grandcypher changes its course to head to Auguste, its crew all too eager to spend time on golden sands. He elects to stay by Lucifer’s side, declining invitations to the raucous gatherings on the beaches in favour of remaining in the quiet cabin. But he observes from his place below deck, how nary a second is wasted as mortals and immortals alike enjoy the beach in summer.

Summer passes into fall. Throughout the skies, the greens of treetops transform into golds, oranges and reds, dotting the skies with a variety of colour. Days become shorter, darkness falls more quickly, yet mortals continue to find reason to celebrate. The clouds that hang low over the autumn nights do little to diminish the festivities and before long, calls of “Trick or treat!” echo throughout the halls of the Grandcypher, following the airship and its crew to where they deign to dock for Halloween. Sandalphon had heard of this occasion before; a yearly tradition wherein Lost Jack appears in the world of the living to frolick, where skydwelling children put on costumes and threaten tricks for candy. He can’t help but think it nonsense that there would be so much excitement over one day in a year, and yet slowly, he can begin to understand. It is because it’s so fleeting, because times will change soon, that the skydwellers choose to make the most of a day that will not come again for a long time.

Before long, winter snows blanket the islands, drifting from the clouds and bringing with them memories of the labs swathed in white. Sandalphon had waited in the snow as well, for Lucifer to grace him with his presence again, and sometimes to no avail at all. The bitter, jaded part of himself thinks that he hasn’t changed from the naive, innocent archangel he once was--the sole difference is that his soul is now stained with sin and blood.

Or so he wants to think--it’s less painful to believe it, to deny. And yet at each and every turn, he finds himself getting pulled along with the crew, swept into their antics as he’s convinced to do this and that, from accompanying the beach-going children, to handing out candy, to flying around distributing presents, to heralding the first sunrise of the new year. It’s loud. It’s irritating. It’s the most liveliness that Sandalphon has ever experienced in his long life.

He doesn’t know when he had begun seeing the Grandcypher as “home.” But rather than a place of brief respite, it has become a place to return to, a place that will always welcome him back. For Sandalphon, it’s the first time he has ever experienced such a thing, but he realizes that this, _this_ must have been what Lucifer felt in the garden, when he heard an oft-spoken greeting that heralded the end of long struggles and the smile of someone who would always welcome him back. The difference, Sandalphon thinks, is that the greetings that _he_ hears are always much brighter, coloured in so many different voices and smiles.

But something always feels incomplete. And unbeknownst to even himself at first, Sandalphon begins to cultivate a wish of his own, a wish that takes form only as a vague sense of yearning that only gets stronger whenever he gazes upon Lucifer’s slumbering form.

“I want to be able to share this feeling with you one day.”

He realizes belatedly that it’s the first time he’s ever thought consciously of sharing something with another.

* * *

 

Crew members come and go, some departing for their home islands for a break from the journey, others pulled away by more pressing concerns and assignments that come from their previous affiliations. Other than the supreme primarch duties, Sandalphon has no such thing, and he has become a Grandcypher regular before long. “Oh, you’re still here?” some of the drifters ask him, and their only response is a half-hearted scoff and a light jab. “The Singularities haven’t managed to get rid of me yet,” is his usual response, but the words are spoken without any real bite.

Slowly, Sandalphon comes to learn of other crew regulars that he hasn’t the chance to meet in his reclusive tendencies; most of them without homes, on the run, or with no family to return to. Unfortunately, he doesn’t encounter _all_ the regulars, and one morning, that results in a very nasty surprise--one that takes form as a _painfully_ familiar, incredibly radiant young man that he happens to run into on his way to answer Gran’s and Djeeta’s summons. When he has gotten over the initial shock, he levels a glare on the twins.

“Can one of you _please_ explain this to me?”

Gran grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck in mild regret. “I was trying to find a way to tell you.”

Sandalphon’s accusatory finger is jabbed at the familiar silver-haired man. So familiar, in fact, that Sandalphon’s soul had nearly absconded from his body when he had seen him walking down the halls towards the same destination. He had called out to him, wanted to ask when he had woken up, when he had left the cabin, why he hadn’t said anything to Sandalphon--

- _-only for the man to turn around and regard him as he would a stranger, asking Sandalphon who he was, with that face and that voice, and--_

The culprit of his current headache is looking back at Sandalphon, his ridiculously tiny wings fluttering innocently.

“Pardon me… Should I not be here?”

“Hey, Sandalphon, Lucio doesn’t mean any harm. You don’t have to look at him like he’s some kind of criminal,” Gran says, trying desperately to de-escalate the situation of his own making. “Isn’t this the first time you’ve met him?”

“Lucio?” Sandalphon stares incredulously at this man, this man who looks exactly like Lucifer, who somehow thinks he can get away with a name like _Lucio_ without raising any eyebrows _._ _“Lucio?_ What nonsense is this?”

“I came because the Captains called for me,” Lucio says. “I apologize if I’ve caused you any trouble.”

“I wasn’t asking you!”

“Lay off the guy, won’t you, Grumplephon?” Vyrn pipes up. “All he’s doing is standing there and breathing. Unless you’re mad ‘cause he stole your beans or something.”

“Coffee has nothing to do with it. Do you know what it’s like?” Sandalphon says, fuming still, willing the pounding in his chest to calm. “To have someone with Lucifer-sama’s visage treat you like a total stranger? To not remember a single thing about you? Do you know how that _feels?_ ”

He doesn’t need to mention the hurt for it to be obvious in his eyes. Everyone present falls silent at that, knowing intimately the sheer amount of time Sandalphon devotes to his sleeping beloved. The experience he describes must be nothing short of heartbreaking. Both Gran and Djeeta can sympathize. But...

Gran sighs. “That’s not Lucio’s fault…”

“Forgive me,” Lucio says calmly. The juxtaposition between his comically small wings drooping and the face of a man that Sandalphon has only ever known to be serious and composed is a little too much for Sandaphon to handle.

“Lucio, you don’t have to apologize for that!” Djeeta interjects as Sandalphon turns away with a huff and crosses his arms. “You’re just going to encourage him…”

“Even so, I’ve heard so much about him and the great things he’s been doing for the crew these past ten months. I wanted my first meeting with ‘San-chan’ to be amicable, at least...”

The sound of _that voice_ saying his name in so affectionate yet diminutive a manner is at least enough to distract Sandalphon from pursuing the matter any further, hoping the nonsense either ends or that a hole in the Grandcypher’s hull spontaneously opens up and drops Sandalphon into the Crimson Horizon.

* * *

 

The intended meeting begins when Sandalphon finally recovers. Disgruntled, he turns to twin captains once again.

“Well? You called us here for a reason, didn’t you? May I ask why?”

“It’s about an assignment we just got,” Djeeta says. “We were asked to help deal with a group of vigilantes that’s been causing trouble.”

“That doesn’t sound any different from the standard.”

“The situation’s a bit trickier this time,” Gran adds. “This island’s also known for the mountain range that splits it down the middle. The terrain is really rugged too. Anything that isn’t rock or cliff face is dense wood. You can travel by horseback, but only on trails, and only islanders who’ve known the place all their lives would know the land like the back of their hands. Naturally, this goes for the vigilantes too. They’re using the terrain and the wood cover to their advantage to launch sneak attacks, and before they can be caught, they disappear into the interior of the island again. It’s leaving the villagers stretched thin for resources, and their most able-bodied are already out of commission, so they can’t really go looking for them.”

Lucio nods. “I see. In other words, traversing the island on foot while attempting to find the vigilantes would be a fool’s errand…”

“And they’re familiar with the land. Outsiders could spend days navigating the place, all while the perpetrators slip out from under their noses. On the other hand, those capable of flight would not only be able to travel longer distances, but spot signs of life from the air. Hence why you called me and... _him_ ,” Sandalphon jerks his head towards Lucio, “is that right?”

“Not many crews can say that they have angels traveling with them,” Djeeta says.

“Hey, wait a second!” Vyrn chirps again. “The island’s like a warzone right now, isn’t it? Having Sandalphon and the others fly in a place like that… Doesn’t that kinda hang’em all out to dry?”

“That’s why we wanted to talk to everyone first,” Gran says. “We don’t really want to turn a blind eye, but it’ll also be dangerous. We just wanted to see if you guys were okay with it. If you aren’t, then we’ll find some other alternative.”

Sandalphon levels a hard stare at the twin captains. “And I trust that you two aren’t going to say no to this no matter what.”

They shake their heads, and Sandalphon spares them a jaded smile.

“Fine. I’ll help out. I don’t see how mortal vagabonds would present any problems for a primarch anyway.”

“We knew you’d come around!” Djeeta says with a grin. Sandalphon rolls his eyes.

“Don’t think too much on it. I’m still in the crew’s debt; this is nothing more than repaying the favour I owe. Have you asked the fallen--Olivia and Azazel yet?”

“Azazel was pretty reluctant to leave you and Lucifer’s cabin.” Gran brings a hand to his chin in thought. “I’ll try to talk to him again. As for Olivia… Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Olivia for a few days either. The ship’s pretty big, so maybe she’s just never where we can find her. But even so, with just you and Lucio, it should be--”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline any further involvement,” Lucio says suddenly. “I’ve urgent business that I must attend to.”

The news is unexpected, prompting stares from the gathered crew members. Lucio had mentioned nothing of his past thus far, and had always been content to remain with the crew, accompanying them to assignments without complaint whenever they called for his assistance. “Did you get some news from home, Lucio?” Lyria asks. It’s the only thing she--and anyone, really--can think of.

“From home… Yes, I suppose you can say that.” Regret is evident on Lucio’s soft features as he speaks. “I apologize, Captains… It was very sudden, and I had been thinking of how best to bring it to light. I want nothing more than to offer my aid to you, but…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Spangles! We’ve got a whole airship of crewmembers that can chip in. We’ll cover for ya!” Vyrn says. Lucio smiles.

“You have my gratitude, Master Vyrn. When I return, I’ll be sure to repay my debt to you all in full. Well then, I must prepare for my journey ahead. Please excuse me.”

Sandalphon watches Lucio leave the room, his eyes laden with suspicion. He lingers in the room, half-listening as Gran and Djeeta wrap up the details of the assignment, before the burning questions in his mind lead him to trace Lucio’s footsteps.

* * *

 

Lucio only makes it as far as the deck, though he seems to be idle, content to watch the clouds pass by. Sandalphon doesn’t even bother deafening his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“What happened to your preparations?”

“San-chan.” Sandalphon tries not to cringe at the name when Lucio uses it again. As Lucio turns around to face him, he offers Sandalphon a gentle yet unreadable smile. “I was simply waiting for the winds to turn. Flying is much faster when you’ve a tailwind at your back, as I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“I’m not, actually. This is the first time I’ve ever traveled throughout the skies, let alone flown in them.”

“Ah.” The natural glow around Lucio seems to diminish as his wings droop. “Forgive me. I didn’t know.”

“You _wouldn’t_ know, would you.” Sandalphon’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t attempt to mask the bitterness. “So tell me. Who are you? And don’t bother re-introducing yourself. I know that ‘Lucio’ isn’t your real name.”

Lucio doesn’t answer. Sandalphon’s eyes bore into the figure that _shouldn’t_ be familiar, yet is; everything is the same, from the way Lucio’s silvery white hair falls over his neck, to his clear, azure eyes, to the intricacies in his armour. But there is a distinct difference in the way Lucio carries himself, and in the manner with which he speaks. Where Lucifer is elegant, majestic, commanding power with every breath he takes, Lucio is more enigmatic, a frivolous lightness to his step that is clearly a veil to obscure something much deeper.

How can he be exactly the same, yet so different?

“Well? Who are you?”

Lucio smiles mysteriously, and though as dazzling as it is, it’s still so markedly different from the muted yet gentle expressions that Lucifer makes, so much so that Sandalphon wonders how he even mistook Lucio for Lucifer in the first place.

“Perhaps you’ll find out one day, should you decide to remain with the Captains until they surpass the stars.”

The answer doesn’t set Sandalphon’s mind at ease. In fact, it only serves to aggravate him further. He takes a step forward and grabs the angel’s arm, all too willing to beat the answers out of Lucio if he must.

“Answer me. I won’t let you attend to whatever business you have until you tell me!”

Lucio’s only response is to watch Sandalphon calmly. His sky blue eyes are infuriatingly clear of any guilt whatsoever. Then, Lucio slowly leans closer, speaking directly into Sandalphon’s ear:

_“Beware the encroachment of chaos, supreme primarch.”_

Aghast, Sandalphon lets go of Lucio’s arm and Lucio slips from his grasp and brushes past him. Sandalphon whirls on his heel, but the moment he turns, Lucio is gone, leaving a very startled Sandalphon alone on the deck as if he had never had company to begin with.

* * *

 

Sandalphon is left to his own devices for a few hours to deliberate on Lucio’s identity and his cryptic words. But there is never enough time to think on an airship like this; soon, Djeeta and Gran call for him again, and he reluctantly heeds their summons to regroup. He is the last to enter the room; Olivia and a very disgruntled-looking Azazel are already present. Sandalphon raises his eyebrows as he looks to the latter.

“Oh? You managed to drag him out? I’m impressed, Singularity.”

Azazel shoots Sandalphon a poisonous glare. “I don’t want to hear that from you, of all people, brat. I’ve barely seen you leaving the cabin either unless the humans here specifically ask you.”

“I’ve been doing more than you have. Though I suppose you wouldn’t know that, since you don’t leave the cabin.”

“It seems like Lyria managed to convince Azazel to come,” Olivia says matter-of-factly. Djeeta chuckles lightly, catching onto Olivia’s attempt to defuse the ensuing argument before it can even begin, and adds: “No one can resist Lyria when she gets serious.”

“Sh-shut up, both of you! No one asked you!”

Sandalphon only rolls his eyes. “Just don’t get in the way and hold us all back.”

“I should be the one saying that to you, brat!”

“Anyway!” Djeeta senses yet another crisis on the way and begins the briefing before any damage can be done. “Azazel, Olivia, the reason we called you here was because of the assignment we just got. We explained it to Sandalphon earlier, but it looks like we’ll need all the help that we can get with this one. In other words…”

* * *

 

It will be some hours before they reach the island in question, and Sandalphon has another opportunity to not only stew on Lucio’s situation and brace himself for a very long assignment with Azazel and Olivia, but to nurture a question that had taken root in the back of his mind for quite some time now. His curiosity at its peak, Sandalphon makes his way towards the deck where he finds the twin captains looking out over the railing and discussing the specifics of the assignment.

“Singularity.”

It’s Djeeta who responds first, fixing Sandalphon with a flat stare. “Which one? You’ll have to start using our names eventually, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter. Either of you can answer.” He pauses briefly, trying to think of how to best word out his question before he begins speaking again. “I’ve been with the crew for the better part of the year, and there’s something I’ve noticed. You drop everything you’re holding the moment someone cries for help, and yet there’s rarely ever anything in it for you. Why are you so quick to extend your kindness to others?”

Gran and Djeeta stare at Sandalphon for a few moments before Gran answers with a question of his own:

“Do we need a reason to help others?”

Sandalphon falls silent.

“It’s not hard to be kind.” Djeeta adds. “And if we can solve a problem, then we should. It’s the right thing to do.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Sandalphon repeats each syllable with deliberation, as if chewing on the words. “And what makes you think you can solve every single problem that happens to come your way? The skies are littered with flaws. Singularities you may be, but there is only so much that mortals can do before you stretch yourselves thin. So why?”

The twins exchange a glance before they look back to Sandalphon. “Maybe we can’t solve _every_ problem,” Gran says slowly. “But that doesn’t mean we should just give up and do nothing at all.”

Djeeta nods. “Turning down someone in need isn’t something that we can do. Small actions are better than no action.”

“Ha… So I suppose that extends to me too, doesn’t it. And here I thought that you accepted me onto your airship out of some misguided sense of pity.”

“Could you maybe not say it like that? Not everyone’s out to get you. Some people just want to help.”

“Believe me, I know.” Sandalphon brushes past the two and leans against the railing. The breeze tousles his hair as he fixes his eyes on a distant point in the blue skies. “I just wanted to understand what it was like to live so foolishly altruistically. It’s not like I can ask _him_ right now.”

Though neither of the twins respond, they both catch on to what the conversation is really about, and Djeeta speaks again.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ve been a bad supreme primarch.”

Sandalphon pauses, and Gran picks up from where his sister left off.

“And you do the same thing as us. The moment something comes up, you drop everything to help out.”

“Because Lucifer-sama asked me to. It’s not out of any sense of altruism.”

“Look!” Gran says, clearly exasperated at Sandalphon’s insistence. “We’re not just talking about archangel business! It’s stuff with the crew too! You help out and you come along whenever you’re needed!”

“He’s gonna say that it’s because he owes us, Gran.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Singularity.”

“Oh, so it’s not true?” Djeeta perks up, eyeing Sandalphon mischievously, and Sandalphon grimaces and looks away. She continues pressing him.

“You’re really going to tell us that you don’t feel anything at all? Even after all this time?”

Sandalphon remains silent.

“You want to understand, don’t you?” Gran continues. “That’s why you asked us. Isn’t that a step forward?”

“You really won’t give this up, will you. Not even after all this time?”

“Nope,” the twins chorus in unison, and Sandalphon can only sigh, completely defeated.

“Nonsense.” In spite of his words, the beginnings of a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. The second inquiry hovering on the tip of his tongue goes yet unspoken; Sandalphon had once wondered what it was about skydwellers that Lucifer had been so enamored with, but when he sees Djeeta and Gran looking at him so innocently, so earnestly, yet so full of resolve, he can begin to understand the roots of the fondness that the former supreme primarch had held for mortals.

“It’s 2000 years too early for either of you to be lecturing me.”

Sandalphon trusts that Gran will be able to hold Djeeta back from pummeling him for that quip, and turns to look over the railing once again, watching the clouds drift on a sea of azure like the distant memory that has drifted to the surface...

* * *

 

_He had seen Lucifer training once. Sandalphon had been mesmerized by the grace with which the supreme primarch moved as he fought against archangel cores--throwaway cores without any real sentience infused with the bare minimum of power required for their animation, and crafted for the sole purpose of helping the primarchs hone their skills. Yet, even after Lucifer destroyed all of them, he still knelt by their shattered remains and thanked them softly for their service to him; all-encompassing compassion granted even to beings that could barely be considered alive._

_Lucifer had only noticed Sandalphon afterwards. He sheathed his swords and greeted Sandalphon with his usual gentle smile._

_“Sandalphon. You should’ve spoken up sooner.”_

_“I didn’t want to interrupt you, Lucifer-sama. You seemed so deep in focus.” Sandalphon’s eyes shone with admiration, though there was curiosity mixed in there as well as he tilted his head. “I didn’t know that you required training.”_

_“My skill with the blade will not diminish with time and disuse as a mortal’s would, but there is never any harm in conditioning the body. Skydwellers often do the same.”_

_“You’re very fond of skydwellers, aren’t you, Lucifer-sama.” Sandalphon’s smile was a little more strained now, though he stamped out the budding feelings of dismay before they could truly take root. “But why would you want to emulate them? Aren’t you already perfect?”_

_A strange look crossed Lucifer’s eyes then; one that Sandalphon couldn’t read. “Do you really think I’m perfect, Sandalphon?”_

_Sandalphon nodded without hesitation. “I do. Everyone says you are.”_

_“I see,” Lucifer said. If Sandalphon didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he had seen disappointment flicker across Lucifer’s face for a split second--and then it was gone, and Lucifer was smiling at him again. He brushed past Sandalphon to take a seat at the bench nearby and motioned for Sandalphon to follow._

_“Come. Sit with me, Sandalphon.”_

_Sandalphon obliged, all too eager to spend more time with his lord, though unsure of what Lucifer’s intentions were. “Lucifer-sama?”_

_“Do you think perfection is a good thing?”_

_“Huh?” The sudden question took Sandalphon aback. “Well… Of course. If you’re perfect, then you have no flaws. Isn’t that good?”_

_“Having no flaws,” Lucifer said, “can be seen as a good thing, yes. But I wonder if the opposite is also true.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“A perfect world will never change. A perfect being has no reason to better itself. Time will continue to flow, but that which is perfect will remain stagnant for all eternity. That which is perfect...will never evolve._

_“Do you think perfection is really a boon, Sandalphon?”_

_Sandalphon had no answer for him. Realizing as much, Lucifer looked softly towards the archangel beside him, with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes._

_“Forgive me. It’s simply a thought that I’ve entertained for quite some time. Perhaps it’s not our place to question such things.”_

_And still, Sandalphon had remained silent, not understanding at the time what would prompt Lucifer's spiel._

_He would only come to realize 2000 years later what Lucifer truly admired about the skies._

* * *

 

When they dock at the island’s port, the sun has already trespassed into the last quarter of the horizon, dyeing the world an orange tint. As the crew makes the preparations to moor the ship for an extended stay, Sandalphon notices a familiar figure in the shadows, just out of sight as she watches. He excuses himself from the crew briefly and flies over to join her side.

“Michael. What are you doing here?”

The primarch of fire spares him a single glance before she looks pointedly back at the crew. “Did you direct them here, Sandalphon?”

“No. The Singularities voluntarily took on an assignment that led them to this island. Why do you ask?”

“I see.” She keeps her gaze focused on some place deep within the interior. It’s easy even for Sandalphon to see the concern in her eyes. “Something strange is afoot here, though none of us can yet discern what it is.”

“Strange…?” Sandalphon waits for her to elaborate, but she shakes her head.

“I can only tell you of a vague feeling of unease. Just be sure to exercise caution while you’re here. Make sure the mortals do the same.”

Her unease is contagious, and her words do little to banish the trepidation that has now settled over him, but Sandalphon only nods to assure his adjutant.

“...Alright,” he says. “I’ll be careful.”


	7. Debauchery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was...so hard to write and at one point I rewrote the entire thing and that's one of the reasons it took so long. I got stuck in so many places and I honestly don't like how it turned out BUT again, I figured that if I didn't get it out NOW I never would. I just hope it doesn't show LOL;;;
> 
> Many thanks to [Ena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikuNanase) for providing me with a fresh perspective. I had a different idea for this chapter but it was getting hard to write so he gave me a better one to work with and I just scrapped my original one.
> 
> Also, warning for amputation/loss of limb in this chapter, just in case.

Blades of light slice through the air and tear a hole into the canopy below. The brigands scatter like flies, but Sandalphon descends upon them like an ill omen. Sparks fly as blades clash, though the skirmish is over as soon as it begins; aerial combat is an archangel’s forte and it takes the supreme primarch but mere seconds to incapacitate the group. The vigilantes are left in groaning heaps on the ground with the ringleader pinned beneath Sandalphon’s heel. 

“M-monster,” the man croaks, and Sandalphon applies just a bit more pressure. Not enough to hurt or break skin, but enough to be felt.

“That’s _beast_ to you.”

He hears wingbeats overhead and looks up as Olivia descends with her own spoils; two men whom she grasps by the scruff of their necks, who are then tossed unceremoniously towards their fallen comrades. “These two were hiding,” she says. “But they were the only ones. There were no others in that direction.”

“Alright. Where’s Azazel?” 

No sooner does he speak does the underbrush rustle, and another man stumbles onto the trail as Azazel buries the sole of his boot into his back. 

“Feh! Foolish human… Thinking you can outrun a demon.”

“I was wondering, when are you going to stop with that ‘demon’ nonsense? You let the entire ship know of your service to Lucifer-sama on the day that we met, so you’re obviously a primarch.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Olivia clears her throat. “We should rendezvous with the captains before night falls. Let’s tie the vigilantes up and fly them back.”

* * *

 

“We rounded’em all up!” Vyrn announces happily. “It went without a hitch thanks to you three!”

“Of course,” Azazel scoffs. “Mere humans have nothing on a full-fledged demon. Their fates were decided the moment we arrived on this island.”

Sandalphon rolls his eyes. “And yet, I seem to recall you doing the least out of the three of us. You only managed to capture one man. You’re really all just talk, aren’t you?”

“What did you just say?!”

“Do you think you two could go maybe five seconds without starting a fight with each other?” Gran asks exasperatedly as Azazel fumes.

“The brat was the one who started it!”

“Well, you just make it so easy,” Sandalphon responds with a grin.

The bickering primarchs are assuaged by the twin captains before insults and fists can start flying, and the three go their separate ways as the rest of the crew members handle supply restocking and nightly accommodations. 

* * *

 

Finding himself with time on his hands suddenly, Sandalphon spreads his wings and allows them to carry him over the woods. Though the skies are now moving into the second spring he’s experienced with the crew, the air hanging over the island is more like that of autumn, an image further perpetuated by the fallen and decaying leaves below. While navigating towards the island, Rackam had mentioned that it was known for its lack of seasonal variation, and that growing seasons are short with conditions far too poor to facilitate agriculture.

“What a dreary place,” Sandalphon mutters to no one in particular. “Mortals are truly incomprehensible, choosing to live on an island like this…”

He slows to a halt as he hears the words leaving his mouth. How decidedly... _un-_ primarch-like, he thinks, then gently descends towards an outcrop that overlooks a portion of the forest. The sun has dipped into the last quarter of the sky by the time his heels touch down on the rock. Sandalphon can see nothing but a canopy of dark leaves punctuated by snags. He closes his eyes to at least enjoy the cool breeze that tickles his cheeks.

_No matter what the conditions, life will always find a way to persist and flourish._

He hears Lucifer’s voice as if Lucifer had spoken to him just yesterday, and when Sandalphon opens his eyes again, he sees the island coming to life beneath the dusk. Pinpricks of light blink into existence on the forest floor as the bioluminescence of mushroom heads poking through the detritus becomes more evident in the dark ambience. Fireflies rise from the underbrush and light up the trees like stars on land, and as they take flight, they dot the violet canvas of the twilight skies. The waning sunlight coaxes open the buds of evening blooms, laying bare their petals for their nightly pollinators. Soon, what was once a dark, grey wood becomes awash with colour and light.

_There’s beauty in every corner of the skies if you choose to search for it._

Sandalphon feels the beginnings of a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Thousands of years ago, Lucifer had told him about flowers that bloomed only at night and subsisted on moonlight rather than sunlight, and Sandalphon remembers longing to see such a sight.

And now, 2000 years later, he is here, his wish granted by the benevolence of the one who had chosen to believe in him. But the scene is incomplete. Something is missing.

_If only you were here..._

Incomplete as it feels, he decides to revel in the sight a little longer. Sandalphon sits down, and as he does, his leg brushes against a flower. It spreads its petals in preparation for the moonrise, but unlike the violets and golds and oranges of its ilk, this flower boasts petals of brilliant blue. 

Just like the skies.

Sandalphon’s fingers brush against the flower, thinking to bring it back to the Grandcypher to add to the growing collection of gemstones and feathers and sea shells and other trinkets on Lucifer’s night stand--a collection of mementos, each holding a unique memory that Sandalphon wants to share with Lucifer one day. His hand lingers at the stem, but then he thinks better of it. Lucifer never took souvenirs; he could leave not a single footprint on the world, forever an outsider to something he loved with all of his heart. How lonely and isolating, Sandalphon thinks, that the supreme primarch could be forsaken so easily by the very world that he loves, and that world would continue turning, none the wiser to so great a loss.

Sandalphon withdraws his hand from the flower and simply contents himself to watch as the beautiful bloom spreads.

_One day, I’ll come back with you and show you myself._

* * *

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s stayed in this spot before the air shifts and warms, igniting with the presence of flame. Michael materializes into existence behind Sandalphon, touching down lightly onto the rock and keeping her wings tucked behind her.

“Michael. Do you need something?”

“Not at the moment. You’ve been gone for a while,” is the curt response. “I overheard the Singularities talking about searching for you.”

“A while… How long have I been here?”

“A few hours at least. I was wondering whether you had succumbed to the creatures on this island.”

“Heh. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were worried about me, Michael.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sandalphon. Though admittedly, I’m curious as to what could be so interesting about this area that you’ve apparently been in the same spot for hours.”

“I was looking at...that,” Sandalphon says, turning his head back to look over the cliff again. Michael follows his gaze towards the forest, now buzzing with activity and illuminated from above and below by the fireflies and glowing mushroom heads and moonflowers, and her brow quirks with mild bemusement.

“Oh? This is a welcome change indeed. I was wondering when you’d see beyond your self-centered motivations and look at what’s around you.”

“You don’t have much faith in me, do you? Not that I can blame you, given what I did to you two years ago.”

“Don’t mistake me, Sandalphon. I have no qualms about your inheritance. It was Lucifer-sama’s will, and I trust in his decision to trust you. It’s simply my duty as your adjutant to pass on these concerns to you.”

Sandalphon falls into a pensive silence. He hums thoughtfully as he chews on Michael’s words and thinks back to the memories he’s seen—what his own lack of understanding, no, his _refusal_ to understand, caused. “Self-centered… It’s not as if you’re wrong about me. I saw only what I wanted to see and rejected the idea of any wrongdoing of my own making.” He pauses. The smile he wears is tinged with remorse and heartache. “But it must’ve been difficult on Lucifer-sama. He had to work harder than anyone else, and only after inheriting his role have I realized how much he struggled.”

It’s Michael’s turn to fall silent. Her feet barely make a sound against the rock as she steps closer to Sandalphon until she stands beside him. 

“Sandalphon. You aren’t Lucifer-sama. You will never be able to replace him.”

Though painfully obvious as that truth is, it’s still a truth that stings, and Sandalphon bows his head in defeat. However, Michael doesn’t allow a moment more for him to wallow. 

“You struggle because you’re trying to fill shoes that you won’t fit. Do you think any of us expect you to act exactly as he did?”

Slowly, Sandalphon raises his head again. “Michael…?”

“Our time as primarchs is ticking. When we cede our roles to nature, we will have no sway over the course the world will take. And even should Lucifer-sama awaken in this time, he will no longer be the supreme primarch. Now is your time, Sandalphon. You are not Lucifer-sama, and so your vision for the world will be different from his--it’s something that all of us, even Lucifer-sama, have accepted. He placed his faith in you, and so too will we.” 

“My vision…”

“Surely you have one. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t have an answer for her, but he’s not given the chance to think of one. Both primarchs pause as wingbeats puncture the quiet and Azazel lands on the cliff they’re standing on.

“Hey, brat. I’ve been looking all over the island for you. The captains were--” He blanches as his eyes travel from Sandalphon to his current companion. “M... _Michael...!?”_ he yelps, before his voice fades into an almost sheepish squeak, “...-sama?”

The abrupt change in demeanor in conjunction with the uncharacteristically high pitch that Azazel’s voice has taken sends Sandalphon into a fit. Even Michael has begun smirking.

“Oh? I didn’t expect to find one of the fallen angels among us. Have all the millennia in Pandemonium set you straight?”

“Th-that’s…!” Azazel decides he doesn’t want to answer that question, then turns angrily to the shaking Sandalphon. “What are you laughing at!”

“Oh, nothing,” Sandalphon says between bouts of laughter. “I’ve just never seen that amount of nonsense on someone’s face before, it was quite amusing.”

“Idiot! Have you ever been on the receiving end of Michael-sama’s wrath!? I’d sooner throw myself back into Pandemonium than face that a second time!”

“Evidently,” Michael says, and it’s clear from the mirth in her smirk and the glint in her eyes that she is thoroughly and utterly amused, “Sandalphon knows very well of the power I wield, seeing as he felt the need to resort to backhanded tactics in order to best me and steal my wings.”

The humor very quickly fades from Sandalphon as he cringes at the memory. “So you hold resentment towards me after all?”

“Nothing of the sort. Unlike you, I am above petty grudges in the same way that I am above indulging in the suffering of my downed opponents.”

“You really didn’t have to include that last part! I already understand the folly of my actions...”

The three are interrupted when a tremor rocks the island. Sandalphon spreads his wings in reflex to steady himself; Michael and Azazel do the same, and the three primarchs barely remain standing on the smooth rock of the outcrop. The tremor that follows the first is accompanied by the sound of an explosion, the volume dulled by distance but alarming all the same.

“What was that?” Sandalphon asks as he scrambles to his feet. Michael’s eyes are fixed on a certain point on the horizon. Sandalphon follows her gaze to find black smoke rising against a backdrop of a glowing orange sky.

“Fire…?” His heart drops as he makes a sudden realization. “Wait--that’s the direction of the town!”

Michael narrows her eyes as she continues to stare. “That’s close to where you docked, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t need to confirm it. The vision of a six-winged primarch transcends that of any other living being. Before Sandalphon can say anything else, he and Michael are beset by a sudden flurry of black feathers as Azazel takes off without another word, speeding towards the town. 

“Hey, wait! Where do you think you’re--” 

“Sandalphon.” Michael grasps his arm before he can take off after the fallen primarch. She gestures towards the forest. It has fallen silent and dark. “Don’t act recklessly. We’re not the only ones here.”

“What about Azazel?” 

“He should be fine for now. Fallen angels like him are suited to the cover of night. But archangels like us need to exercise more caution.” 

“Fine. What should we do?” 

“Have the supreme primarch’s powers returned to you yet?”

Sandalphon shakes his head. 

“Then we’ll fly back together,” Michael says. “Until we determine who--or what--our enemies are, we should avoid losing one another. We should also avoid flying directly above the woods. It’d be easy to shoot us out of the air from beneath the cover of the canopy.”

“Even primarchs?” Sandalphon’s brow creases with worry. “Does this have anything to do with the strange happenings you mentioned before?”

“I don’t know yet, but it’s safe to say that the two are related. Let’s fly over the mountain range for now. It’ll be far more difficult for enemies to launch a sneak attack against us this way.” She glances back at Sandalphon, takes note of the hesitance in his expression, then steps closer. “Sandalphon. We won’t be of any use to anyone if we fall before we reach the town. We need to be careful.”

Sandalphon gnashes his teeth in frustration, but nods reluctantly. He can deny neither Michael’s logic nor her experience in battle. “Alright. Then let’s hurry.”

Supreme primarch and adjutant take flight together, soaring adjacent to the now eerily silent woods. In spite of Michael’s warnings, Sandalphon’s eyes remain fixed on the horizon in the distance. Their wings can’t carry them fast enough; the distance only seems to grow between them and the orange blaze. 

But it isn’t long before the tense silence is interrupted. Uncanny, child-like laughter floats on the air, louder and louder, and from the corner of his eye Sandalphon sees the small, grey bodies rising from the woods. They’re a sight that he hasn’t seen for thousands of years--the last time he had encountered them was during the rebellion. Michael voices recognition before Sandalphon can.

“Those are Watchers.” Michael’s eyes narrow in suspicion as more come to surround them. “They’re aligned with the fallen angels. Don’t tell me Azazel…?”

“I don’t think it was him,” Sandalphon says as he unsheathes his sword. “As insufferable as that fallen is, he made it very clear that his allegiance was with Lucifer-sama only.”

“And yet, he was among the ranks of the fallen angels 2000 years ago.”

“I know what I’ve seen. He has no reason to betray us.” He closes his eyes, thinking briefly to the dreams, the visions of the past he’s seen in his slumber as of late--visions of the rebellion he had taken part of. “But we can debate on his trustworthiness later. Right now, we have to clear the path.”

“Hmph. Right you are.” The air seems to sizzle and crackle as Michael unfurls her wings to their full extent, her brilliant golden plumage shimmering with heat and flames. “Sandalphon. You go on ahead.”

“What? But--”

“Don’t try to argue with me. I know you’re concerned about the crew...and about Lucifer-sama. You’ll only wear yourself out if you fight here.” She turns to him with a smirk. “Why the hesitation? If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were worried about me.”

“Michael…”

“Fear not, supreme primarch. You’ll have my report when I’m finished.” She whirls mid-air and brandishes her sword, and the path it traces erupts into flames before her, cutting the Watchers off. “Now go!”

Reluctant as he is, the sense of urgency is much stronger. Sandaphon nods and impales the Watcher immediately before him on his blade. Others round on him but he slashes them away and dashes forward in a burst of speed. Eerie laughter follows him but it’s quickly cut short when the fallen angels in pursuit burst into flame. He forces himself to ignore the sounds of battle behind him and focuses instead on the wind whipping past him as he flies at breakneck speed to his destination.

He arrives at the edge of town to see it completely engulfed in flames. As he draws closer, can hear the screaming of the townsfolk as they flee the inferno that threatens to devour everything around them. Where are Gran and Djeeta? Sandalphon hovers above the chaos, but he can’t see the twin captains through the thick smoke--

A bloodcurdling cry rings out over the chaos and sets Sandalphon’s hair on end and he realizes with budding horror that he recognizes the voice. He flies in the direction he thinks the voice came from and finds Azazel crumpled on the ground, his wings bleeding from deep gashes and bent at odd angles. Sandalphon lands hastily and runs over to the downed primarch, grasping his shoulder and trying to shake him awake.

“Hey…! What happened?!”

His only response is a weak groan, and he’s not given the chance to ask again. Disembodied giggles fill the airspace above them as more Watchers flock towards the two. Sandalphon turns his attention back to Azazel. “Get yourself together! We have to move! _Azazel!”_

But it’s no use. Azazel is incapacitated. Sandalphon can only curse this turn of events. Fighting while defending the wounded Azazel will cost him valuable time. He wracks his mind for a solution. What’s the most efficient way to get rid of all of them in one fell swoop? How can he escape unscathed with Azazel…?

Sandalphon doesn’t need to dwell on it further. As the Watchers surge forward, they are intercepted by Olivia, who cleaves the closest ones in two with her black blades.

“You…?!”

The primarch of dusk remains facing her adversaries, her swords drawn. “The crew is deeper in town and helping the people evacuate. They should be able to get Azazel to safety too.”

Sandalphon nods, gathering the wounded Azazel into his arms and standing. “I’ll make it up to you later,” he says, and he doesn’t waste any time waiting for a response before he kicks off the ground and flies over the debris and the flame. It isn’t long before he sees Djeeta and Lyria. As always, they are in the thick of the action, trying to direct the people to safety. Vyrn darts about too, using his extra mobility to guide stragglers towards safer areas. Sandalphon quickly lands before Djeeta.

“Singularity!”

“Sandalphon?! Where have you been?” Djeeta pales when she sees Azazel. “What happened to Azazel?”

“Watchers attacked him. Can you take him to safety? His wings are severely damaged. He won’t be able to fight like this.”

Djeeta nods, relieving Sandalphon of his charge and slinging Azazel’s arm over her shoulder to support him towards the evacuation area. However, the gravity is still present on her face. “Sandalphon, some of the vigilantes we captured earlier are still trapped. Gran went back to free them, but he’s not back yet… Something might’ve happened to him.”

“Alright. I’ll go help them. You get Azazel to safety--”

“...Sandalphon…”

The startled Djeeta and Sandalphon look to Azazel, who grasps weakly at Sandalphon’s arm. 

“Careful… Wasn’t...Watchers,” he manages to croak, but it’s all he’s able to say before he slumps heavily against Djeeta. There’s little time for the two of them to ponder the message. Another frightened scream sounds over the roar of the flames.

“I’ll take care of him! You go, Sandalphon!”

Sandalphon nods and takes off with another powerful flap of his wings to circle overhead. Black smoke fills the air around him and obscures his vision, but he finds the jail soon enough. By the time he lands, it’s already in flames, and Sandalphon rushes into the building without regard for the burning beams around him. The trapped prisoners are easy to find; they remain locked behind bars in the farthest corner of the corridor, and Sandalphon vaults over the debris to reach their cell. With several slashes of his blade, the bars of the cell fall away, leaving an opening large enough for the prisoners to escape.

“Hurry!” he yells, and the prisoners don’t need much more convincing. But as they scramble over each other for the exit, the building groans loudly, and Sandalphon realizes that one of the flaming beams is about to fall. 

_“Watch out!”_

Another groan, and then a loud snap; the pillar comes crashing down towards one of the stragglers, but Sandalphon lunges forward and shoves him away and the wood slams into his shoulders instead. It’s all he can do to bite back the cry of pain that threatens to escape him as he’s forced onto his knees by the sudden weight. More worrying still is the way the man has frozen, watching in horror as the entire scene unfolds and Sandalphon knows that if he stays there any longer, he’ll be trapped too.

“Why are you just standing there?!” Despite the pain he’s in, Sandalphon manages to wrestle the words from his throat and barks: “Go! _Run!_ Don’t turn back!”

The urgency in his voice snaps the man out of his shocked stupor and he turns and runs, leaving Sandalphon to struggle with his predicament. The wood is heavy against his back, and the flames burn his face and neck and feathers and wings and the smoke is choking him and burning his eyes and it _hurts_ , and his mind immediately drifts to a gentle smile and an even softer voice and a presence of light and warmth and kindness, his salvation after hours and hours of painful experimentation--

_Lucifer-sama--_

\--and then he remembers the image of Lucifer on his knees and covered in blood and open wounds and with his wings severed and he remembers the way he had thrown himself in the way of the black blade that would’ve killed Sandalphon and contented himself to fall to the bottom of the skies if it meant Sandalphon could live on--

_\--this is nothing...compared to the pain you went through!_

And it’s with that thought does Sandalphon rise painstakingly slowly to his feet and with a ferocious cry and a burst of magic, cleaves the beam in two. It falls off on either side of him, and Sandalphon wastes no time in bolting for the exit once relieved of the weight. No sooner after that does the building come crashing down behind him in a heap of flames and burning wood. A safe distance away from the ruin, Sandalphon once more falls to his knees and gasps for breath, and even then, the air is so thick with smoke that it offers little relief to the burning sensation in his throat. He’s given no chance to rest; another explosion shakes the ground, followed by Vyrn’s alarmed cry.

_“Gran!”_

The voice prompts him into action again. His aching wings scream at him for rest, yet Sandalphon spreads them again and flies. The air is thick with smoke that clogs his lungs and stings his eyes and tendrils of fire reach for him from below, threatening to swallow him whole. Still, he continues to fly. And as he draws closer, even in the haze of pain and heat and exhaustion, he can sense something else.

A primal beast’s aura. 

A fallen angel’s aura.

Even before his eyes fall upon the six-winged silhouette, he knows who the aura belongs to. The figure is veiled by a wall of smoke, but Sandalphon doesn’t need to see him clearly to know exactly where he is—or where he has to cut.

He speeds towards the silhouette from behind. In his fatigue, he doesn’t notice Gran down below until Gran yells:

_“Wait—!”_

Sandalphon brings his sword down the same moment Belial turns to face him.

But the unexpected greets his eyes, and the shocked Sandalphon only reacts fast enough to redirect his blade away from a killing blow.

His sword cuts through flesh and draws blood. Neither are Belial’s. 

Instead, Lucifer’s left arm is severed from its shoulder and dissipates into light before it can hit the ground. 

The colour drains from Sandalphon’s face as he instinctively propels himself backwards to put space between himself and his opponent. Belial does the same, flying a few paces back with Lucifer in tow, the unconscious primarch still held in front of him as a shield for good measure.

“Whoa, Sandy! Fast! You know, I was thinking that you’d have to be good at foreplay to be with a guy like this. Was I wrong about you after all? Come on, Lucifer, don’t be such a tease. Let me in on the details about your private time in the garden with our precious Sandy.”

He pokes Lucifer’s cheek, but if Lucifer feels any of it, he doesn’t react. It’s a sight that makes Sandalphon’s blood boil. He tries not to look at the bleeding stump that was once Lucifer’s arm as he glares at Belial with enough ferocity to down a dragon.

“Let go of him, Belial!”

“No can do. I need Lucifer’s body. Bubs was _supposed_ to have it ready for me as part of our deal, but he fell through on his end. Left me to do all the work. _Again.”_ Belial says with a sigh, before his eyes light up in mock delight. “But since you’re here, Sandy, maybe you could help a fellow primarch out. That was a real nice cut you did earlier. Quick and clean. Think you can do another one? Right about...” Belial traces a finger across Lucifer’s neck. “...here. Oh, and do be careful. Lucifer can’t regenerate while he’s in this state, so you only have one chance.”

_“You…!”_

But it’s Gran who acts first, taking a running start and leaping at the fallen angel with his sword raised. 

“Oh…?”

Though hoping to take advantage of Belial’s apparent focus on Sandalphon, Gran’s sword slices through empty air as Belial swerves out of the way. In the same breath, the fallen angel snaps his fingers, and at the beckon, a group of Watchers descends from the skies to swarm Vyrn and the young captain.

“What the…!” It’s all that Gran can do to slice one in half before another eventually takes its place. “So you were the one responsible for these weird monsters that were appearing all over the town!”

“Sorry, Singularity,” Belial says. “I’m all for threesomes usually, but I’m on a strict deadline here. I don’t have the time to take it nice and slow.”

“You’re right. You don’t.”

Belial pauses as blue light floods the area. Sandalphon’s wings have spread to their full extent, his power pooling into the familiar sigil that has appeared behind him.

“Because I’m going to end you right here,” Sandalphon growls. 

“Really? Are we really doing this?” Despite being clearly caught directly in Sandalphon’s line of fire, Belial is infuriatingly nonchalant. “Did you miss the part about Lucifer not being able to regenerate while he’s like this?”

“He won’t need to regenerate. Lucifer-sama has endured far worse than the likes of me. You ought to be more worried about yourself.” The glow behind Sandalphon intensifies until it’s blinding.

_“I’ll make it so that you can never fly again.”_

Belial chuckles lightly as his mouth twists into a cruel, fanged grin. “I really like this feisty side of you, Sandy. You’re much more alluring than boring old Lucifer here. How unfortunate…”

Sandalphon isn’t interested in hearing the rest.

_“Ain Soph--”_

But he isn’t able to finish. 

Pain erupts in his wings like liquid fire. He feels the blades piercing them before he sees them. The sigil blinks out of existence as the power he gathered rapidly leaves him, and Sandalphon turns his head slowly to regard the culprit.

His heart drops to his stomach when he sees who it is.

“...Oli...via?”

Olivia remains stone-faced. She doesn’t respond; instead, she rips her blades from Sandalphon’s wings and without anything to keep him in the air, the supreme primarch plummets, crashing to the ground in a mess of feathers. Instinctively, he wraps his wounded wings around him to shield himself from the fall, but it’s an act that causes more pain to erupt in the limbs as he rolls to an agonizing stop.

 _“Sandalphon!”_ Gran slashes the last of the Watchers away and runs over to Sandalphon’s crumpled form. His voice dies in his throat upon seeing Sandalphon’s wings, now bloodied and in tatters and bent at odd angles owing to his haphazard fall. Distraught, Gran looks up to Olivia, who has now joined Belial’s side.

“Olivia, why did you…?!”

Olivia only closes her eyes in response, and though she remains stoic, it’s easy to see the remorse in her expression. Belial’s laughter fills the air as he looks down at Gran and Sandalphon.

“You really didn’t notice her coming? Don’t tell me all that flying around tired you out? Lucifer had a lot more stamina than you, you know. That guy could go on all night.”

“...I should’ve known,” Sandalphon says, his voice strained. He grimaces as he pushes himself onto all fours. His glare is leveled on both fallen angels. “I should’ve known… Of course, someone who would take advantage of the Singularities’ hospitality would side with a serpent like _him.”_

His scathing words are what finally elicit a reaction from Olivia. Her brows furrow as she meets Sandalphon’s glare with one of her own. “Belial and I have a common goal: to free our brethren from Pandemonium and from Astral influence.” Olivia’s hands tighten around the hilt of her swords. “To that end, we--I’ll--do anything.”

“We _did_ have a few close calls, though,” Belial says. “You kept your guard up for months. But I guess being with the skydwellers softened you up after a while. Or maybe you just gave up on Lucifer?” He smiles slyly, watching the way grief tints the anger in Sandalphon’s visage. “Either way, thanks to that, Ollie here was able to sneak in and give him a little bit of _something.”_

“What...! What the hell did you do to him?!”

“You’re probably wondering why you didn’t notice, right? We had to be really careful. Ollie could only inject a small dose of Cilius at a time so that it wouldn’t show. Honestly, it would’ve been really nice if Cilius had woken up prematurely and killed all of you in your sleep, but we can’t have everything.”

Belial chuckles as the horror dawns on Sandalphon’s face. “But to think, Sandy, if you had only looked closely, maybe you could’ve seen the signs. And now look what’s happened to Lucifer. He went through all this trouble for you, and all he gets for it is a severed arm and a world of pain. You’re actually making me feel sorry for the guy. How do you feel, Lucifer?” he asks as he turns to Lucifer’s limp body with an expression of faux sympathy. “You put so much effort into your creation… You did everything you could to keep him alive, and he’s never once said a word of thanks to you. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

As the cruel truth twists into Sandalphon’s gut like a knife, Belial places a hand atop Lucifer’s head and nods it a few times.

“Hahaha! I thought so,” he laughs. “It’s alright, Lucifer. I know you can’t say anything right now, but I hear you loud and clear.

_“You must really regret creating Sandalphon.”_

Sandalphon can only wish that the words don’t shatter him the way they do.

But they rip open the scars that have only just begun to heal. And as Belial and Olivia spread their wings and fly away and Belial’s laughter resounds over the roar of the flames around them, the cacophony fades into a dull murmur as everything _but_ those venomous words becomes muffled. Sandalphon can only watch, frozen, debilitated, as the fallen angels’ silhouettes shrink in the distance, before they disappear into the night with Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone saw the chapter title and immediately heard "AHHH HEEEEEEELLLL" in their heads but also I really can't write Belial or Olivia please someone save me
> 
> On that note I'd also like to thank my good friend Grimm for providing me with inspiration for Belial's dialogue!


	8. Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had 80% of this chapter written by the time I was finished with the previous one, so here's a quick update! It's also a lot shorter. Also I'm falling asleep as I upload this but I'll let tomorrow's me deal with the consequences

_ “I’LL KILL HIM!” _

“Calm yourself, Azazel. Look at the state of your wings. What good would it do to rush to your death?”

“Let go of me,  _ Michael! _ I’ll kill Belial! I’ll gut him and force feed him his own innards!  _ Let GO of me--!” _

It takes only a swift, powerful punch to the abdomen from Michael to silence Azazel completely. A strangled cry is all he manages before he lurches forward and falls still against the primarch of fire, who sighs and turns to Gran and Djeeta.

“He won’t be able to get too far with his wings like that, but still… Make sure he doesn’t fly off on his own.”

The twin captains nod. “We’ll have some of the crew members watch over him,” Djeeta says, an air of resignation and exhaustion in her voice. “He won’t be able to get anywhere short of blasting another hole into the ship.”

As the unconscious Azazel is taken into the interior of the Grandcypher, Djeeta looks to the gaping scar left on the airship’s side. It reveals the singed insides of cabin that had been Lucifer’s and Sandalphon’s abode for the past year. The bed lays barren now, and some of the tattered remains of the few possessions Sandalphon has gathered hang over the burnt wood and flap aimlessly in the wind. Everyone gathered undoubtedly thinks the same thing:  _ How could this have happened? _

“Rackam and Eugen said that nothing important was damaged in the explosion. The Grandcypher should still be able to fly. It’s just a matter of securing the materials to patch up the hole,” Gran says. As he speaks, his fingers dig into his palms, hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles have turned white beneath his gauntlets. “I’m sorry. If only I had been able to stop Belial. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You were tryin’ to save the people still trapped,” says a drooping Vyrn. “That pervy fallen angel forced you to choose between them and what was going on at the docks. There’s no way you could’ve done both at the same time.”

“Belial probably planned this from the start. Me and Lyria found traces of explosives everywhere... I bet they were planted all around town to start the fire. And no one suspected that Olivia would be working with him either. When Azazel woke up, he told us that she was the one who attacked him and set things up so it looked like those Watchers did it. But by the time we got here, it was too late...” Djeeta sighs as her shoulders slump. “If only we could’ve gotten here faster…”

“Enough.” 

Michael’s steady voice cuts through the gloom that has settled over the group, commanding silence. “If you will all blame yourselves for your lack of action, then so too must I. My own tardiness is the reason those two escaped. If I had been able to dispatch the group of Watchers sooner, perhaps I could’ve at least retrieved Lucifer-sama from Belial. But lamenting what could have been prevented will only waste precious time. We should decide what to do next.”

“You’re not worried about Lucifer?” Gran asks. 

“...I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t. But at the very least, I can feel assured that his life is safe for the moment. If Belial had intended to kill him, he would’ve made a sick show of it right in front of you and Sandalphon.”

Lyria, who has listened in silence throughout the whole thing, suddenly speaks up. “Speaking of, has anyone seen Sandalphon?”

An uneasy quiet settles over the group. Lyria doesn’t need any further convincing. “I’ll go look for him!”

“Please do,” Michael says grimly. “Our supreme primarch is still quite wet behind the ears. There’s no doubt that he’s taking this hard.”

Lyria gives them all a determined nod before running, minding the the ground for hot embers that may remain. 

* * *

 

Sandalphon waits for the crew to disperse before he quietly makes his way into the cabin he has become so familiar with. He stands by the empty bed and stares hard at the mattress where an indent and faint traces of warmth linger yet. A dull ache reverberates through his back and shoulders; his wings hang limp from his back, still in tatters, unable to be recalled until they  heal. He’s aware of the unpleasant stinging sensation of skin burned raw and yet all of it feels so numb, so far away. There’s only one thought that’s clear in his mind, one that hurts more than his physical injuries:

_ I failed you again. _

He isn’t left alone with his thoughts for long. However, the telltale sound of Lyria’s approach goes ignored--if Sandalphon hears her soot-covered feet padding against the floorboards, he makes no acknowledgement of it. Lyria comes to a slow stop behind Sandalphon, allowing herself a few moments to catch her breath after navigating the smoldering remains of the town. Then, she begins speaking.

“The criminals you saved are actually helping the village out now,” Lyria says softly, “It’s thanks to them that we were able to put the fire out so quickly.”

Sandalphon doesn’t reply, and Lyria steps a little closer. She hugs a basket of medical supplies closer to her chest as she does. “A lot of houses got destroyed, but there were some that were salvaged. Somehow, no one died either. It’s going to be tough going for everyone who lives here, but we contacted Sierokarte, so she’ll be sending supplies their way… And they’ll all be able to work together to repair everything.”

She is greeted with silence still. Lyria doesn’t try to push Sandalphon to speak. Instead, she places her bundle of supplies onto the floor behind Sandalphon: a basin, rolls of gauze, and bottles of ointments and medicine.

“Here… This is for you, in case you want to use it.” Her eye drift to the burns on visible parts of his neck and face. “I know you’re a primal beast, but you were hurt really badly too… So maybe it’ll help relieve the pain until you heal. ...Oh!”

Lyria trots past Sandalphon to examine the glittering trinkets strewn about the floor by the bed. Many are in pieces, some are nothing but ashes, but others remain intact: a particularly intricate conch shell; an abnormally large acorn; a rose-coloured gemstone; two loose pages from a ruined journal of pressed flowers;  a golden feather that fluoresces in the sunlight; a square of fine silk that’s singed in a corner but otherwise unscathed; a silver pendant inlaid with light blue resin and made to look like the sky.

“These were some of the things that you were collecting to show Lucifer when he woke up, right? I’m glad that not everything got destroyed!” She turns to Sandalphon with a bright smile. “I have a spare box in my room. I’ll let you use it so you don’t lose anything else!”

“...Your kindness truly knows no bounds, does it, girl in blue?”

Simply delighted that she finally received an answer, a faint pinkness rises to Lyria’s cheeks as her smile widens. “You’re a friend, Sandalphon! So I want to do what I can…” Her voice drifts off a little, tinted by concern. “You don’t have to hide your suffering from me. I’m here for you… And I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Sandalphon sighs, and even he hates the sound of utter defeat in his voice. “I’m just contemplating some things.”

Lyria tilts her head. “Like…?”

“Like what I could’ve done to prevent this mess.“

“But it’s not your fault, Sandalphon,” Lyria says patiently. “You did what you could...”

“I wonder. I was warned beforehand. Michael told me to be wary. She cautioned me against rushing into things recklessly, and yet I still wore myself out. And even Azazel tried to tell me about his attacker's true identity, but I didn't catch on. I didn’t act on either of their warnings, and as a result, the village is in ruins, the Grandcypher has been damaged, and Lucifer-sama has fallen into enemy hands…”

“No one blames you for that. All you were trying to do was help everyone…”

Lyria steps forward, looking up at Sandalphon with guileless azure eyes. Sandalphon raises his own to meet them, and he sees nothing but concern. No blame, no anger. Just simple concern from a pure-hearted girl who overflows with compassion for other people. 

“But that’s not the only thing you’re hiding, is it, Sandalphon?”

He can’t bring himself to remain closed off around Lyria. Her kindness wedges itself into the kinks of his armour and lays his heart bare for her to see. He briefly considers being frustrated at the ease with which she reads him, but decides that it would take significantly less energy to answer her question directly.

“Before Belial disappeared,” Sandalphon begins slowly, “he told me...that Lucifer-sama probably regrets creating me. And I suppose I’m finding it hard not to believe him.” He laughs weakly, staring at his hands, their current cleanliness belying the blood that he knows they’re tainted with. “It really is all because of me that all of this happened at all. I failed to see the depth of Lucifer-sama’s kindness towards me, I allowed my judgement to become clouded, and I took my anger and resentment out on Lucifer-sama by instigating the cataclysms… Because of me, Lucifer-sama was injured so severely that he didn’t even have the strength to awaken. And now, he’s been captured, and we have no way of finding out where he is, nor what that  _ demon _ plans on doing with him.”

He gnashes his teeth in frustration.

“If I hadn’t been born, if he had never created me, then none of this would’ve happened… He wouldn’t have gotten so badly hurt. He’d still rule over the skies on his rightful throne…”

A pained expression crosses Lyria’s face as she listens. She falters for a moment, thinking to stay quiet, but then appears to decide against it. Her gaze thoughtfully drifts to the sky outside, calm and blue in spite of the dark clouds that seem to hang over the cabin.

“Sometimes... I wonder if Gran and Djeeta regret saving me.”

Her words prompt a glance from Sandalphon. Lyria continues.

“I’ve troubled them a lot. They fought for me, got hurt for me… When we first met, they even died trying to protect me. For the longest time, they couldn’t stay in one place for too long because the Erste Empire was after me. No matter where they went, trouble followed, all because I was with them.

“So I began wondering… How do they feel about it all? Was it really worth it for them? Are they just putting on a brave face and smiling for my sake? Are they happy like this, when I’ve caused them so much trouble? But as more time passed, I realized… If I think like this, aren’t I disrespecting their feelings and what they’ve done for me?”

“Disrespecting…?”

Lyria nods. “Djeeta and Gran didn’t abandon me no matter what. They stayed behind and protected me because they’re so kind. I realized that if I spent time wondering whether they regret it or not, I’d be stomping all over the sacrifices they’ve made for me. I don’t want to disrespect their feelings like that. So instead, I’ve decided to do whatever I can to help support them.” She smiles sheepishly. “I love them too. I want to stay by their side for as long as I can so that I can continue helping them.”

For a long time, Sandalphon is silent. Lyria is patient. Having made her point, she neither speaks nor presses Sandalphon for a reaction, merely allowing him to process her words. Finally, Sandalphon cracks and offers her a crooked smile.

“...Who knew that the supreme primarch would be receiving advice from the girl in blue, of all people. Fate certainly leads us to strange places.”

Lyria giggles softly. “Ehehe. Was it helpful? I hope it was! Since you and I are so similar.”

“You seem eager to track your image through the mud for my sake.” Though his words are self-depreciating, gentleness colours Sandalphon’s expression as he looks down upon the girl. “But I guess that’s why you’re so much more tolerable than anyone else in this motley crew.”

He grows grave as he looks out into the sky again.

“...Lucifer-sama protected me back in Canaan too,” he says softly. “When I ran into him in the shrine, he was already mortally wounded. Yet the moment he saw me, he tried to protect me. He practically begged his assailant not to harm me. He even gave me all of his power so that I could survive… Lucifer-sama was content to plunge into the Crimson Horizon if it meant preserving my life.” He sees Lyria looking up at him, though she remains respectfully silent as Sandalphon continues. "Unlike you and the Singularities, I’ve yet to be able to make it up to him.”

“Do you want to?”

He’s hesitant to voice his answer, but he eventually does. “...I do. Even if,” he swallows thickly to bury the nauseating sense of anxiety that bubbles up. “Even if he does regret creating me… Even if he truly doesn’t want to see me anymore… I’d like to hear it directly from him.” Sandalphon smiles bitterly. “To think that this was what you were trying to tell me about back in Canaan... All this time, Lucifer-sama really was trying to reach out to me, but never once did I listen to him. Never once have I allowed him to voice what he thinks. So this time, I want to listen to what he has to say. Even if it’s anger, even if it’s hatred... I’ll bear it all, not to justify my own foolish actions, but to allow him the chance to finally speak for himself.”

As resolute as his words are, he can’t deny the tremor in his voice, the way his fists have clenched so tightly that his arms are shaking. To be hated by the one he loves above all is truly a terrifying notion, and yet he can think of no fate more fitting for so despicable and unforgivable a criminal--

Lyria’s smaller hands close tenderly over one of Sandalphon’s fists, the gentle touch jarring him out of his reverie of self-loathing. And when he looks down at her, he sees eyes overflowing with compassion and a smile radiating warmth.

“Even if there’s a chance that Lucifer won’t accept you anymore, you’ll always have a place here, Sandalphon.”

He doesn’t know whether it’s the sincerity in her visage or the words themselves that cause him to react as he does. But the painful lump in his throat is undeniable, as is the stinging in his eyes. Sandalphon quickly turns away, determined not to show her any other pitiful displays of vulnerability than he already has, despite Lyria’s oath of secrecy.

“Naive… You’re naive.” he says quietly. He barely keeps his voice from quivering. “Extending such kindness towards a villain like me… What nonsense.”

Lyria giggles softly again, though she makes no comment on Sandalphon’s degrading composure, remaining at his side and holding his hand. Eventually, his fist unfurls, and his fingers curl around Lyria’s, holding on almost hesitantly, no different from a scorned child.

“...Can I make a request?”

“Of course! Anything.”

“No matter what Lucifer-sama feels about me,” he says slowly. “Regardless of the consequences, I still…want to save him. But I don’t think I’ll be able to do it on my own…” He sighs. “No, I’m certain that I won’t be able to. So…”

His voice dies away, but he doesn’t need to continue. Lyria beams at him.

“Let’s save him together this time, Sandalphon!”

Sandalphon lets out a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding, exhalation that feels like a burden shed. A sense of relief wells up in him and he finally finds it in himself to smile gently down at the azure-haired girl.

“I would like that, Lyria.”


	9. Virus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to post one long chapter but I'm struggling a bit with the latter half of it, so I decided to just split the chapter into two. I thought it'd be better as a transition too because of the content of the next chapter.
> 
> This one's a bit shorter than average, but I didn't want to take an entire month to update again. If I feel differently about it when I finish the latter half though, I’m going to delete this chapter then reupload the whole thing as one but for now thank you for bearing with me!

The clouds of a foreboding red sky hang low over the gargantuan tower of Pandemonium.

At the tower’s pinnacle are two men. One lies in a casket. The only indication that he still bears life is the way his expression twists in agony in what appears to be a fitful slumber.

The second man simply watches the first with an expression that can only be described as rapture.

A third figure joins the first two, her boots tapping against the crimson stone of Pandemonium’s ground. 

“Belial.”

“Hmm?” Belial doesn’t look up from the casket. “Are you here to watch the show? You didn’t strike me as a voyeur, Ollie. Unfortunately, Cilius looks like he’ll need a little more time to wake up.”

“I see.” Olivia’s gaze drifts to Lucifer’s body, then to the black arm that has replaced Lucifer’s original one. Her expression becomes stormy as her eyes finally settle on the former supreme primarch’s pained visage. She shakes her head slowly as if the act will shake the doubt from her mind as well. “I fought in Lucilius’ name 2000 years ago… It’s strange to think that we’ll be seeing him again after all this time.”

“Heh, it’s exciting, isn’t it? It’ll be one hell of a reunion.”

Olivia pauses at that, her brows furrowed as she looks over the tower’s edge. “What of our brethren trapped in Pandemonium?”

“We can’t get to them just yet. Pandemonium’s seal was maintained because Lucifer was able to pass his power onto Sandy.”

Olivia falls into a thoughtful silence, her eyes involuntarily drift to Lucifer once again--the pain that he’s clearly in, even in unconsciousness. “Belial, this plan of yours… Will it really lead to our freedom?”

For the first time, Belial raises his head, craning his neck over the seat to offer Olivia a smile. “Of course it will. It was Cilius’ grand vision to free all of us from the endless cycle the Astrals locked us into. Once he’s back, he can lead us to that freedom once and for all.”

Before she can press him for details, more foot falls scrunch against the dirt, its owner not even bothering to mask them. The hulking figure of Lucifer’s assassin comes into view before long as he looks disdainfully at the primal beasts from under his hood. The malice that oozes from the former Astral’s unseen eyes is palpable, and Olivia decides to make herself scarce.

“...I’ll return to my patrol. I’ll alert you if there are any changes in the enemy’s position.”

“Sure. Thanks a bunch, Ollie.”

It’s only after she takes flight and the sound of her wingbeats fades into the distance does Beelzebub finally speak.

“You’ll really stop at nothing to bring your creator back. I’ll praise your work ethic, if nothing else.” 

For the first time, Belial’s smile fades, and he glances to Beelzebub with a look of displeasure. “About that, Bubs... What happened to our deal? You were supposed to kill Lucifer and leave his body for me, remember? You succeeded in exactly none of those things.”

“Hmph. He would’ve died if he had fallen to the Crimson Horizon anyways--the Otherworldly beings would’ve torn him apart, and we would’ve attained Lucilius’ legacy. Furthermore, the seal on Lucilius' legacy weakened in the split second it took for Lucifer to pass his power onto his inheritor, meaning our goal was achieved regardless. I saw no need to pursue a corpse.”

“Hey, that would’ve been troublesome for me! If it weren’t for Sandy and the archangels of instruction, Lucifer’s body would’ve been lost forever. And he isn't even dead, so Sandy and Azzy were real gung-ho about keeping watch over him. Do you know how long it took me to nab him? I was working myself to the bone to get everything in place.”

“Don’t speak as if you didn’t enjoy every second of it,” Beelzebub growls. “Your actions could’ve cost us the opportunity to carry out this plan.”

And just like that, the smirk is back on Belial’s face. “You got me there. But it’s so boring when everything goes according to plan, isn’t it? What’s a game without a few risks?”

Beelzebub’s only response is a scoff. “Lucilius isn’t even necessary for the plan to succeed. Your workload can only be blamed on your insistence on reviving him.” The former Astral crosses his arms as he glares at the casket. “But I can’t help but wonder how you would go about such a thing. Even the supreme primarch doesn’t have the power to bring back the dead.”

“What if I told you,” Belial drawls, “that before his _untimely_ death, Cilius was working with a certain substance…”

“Substance? Of what kind?”

“You were part of the High Council, so you were probably aware, but the Astrals were looking for a way to override a primal beast’s prime directive without destroying and re-creating it entirely. Naturally, the only one brilliant enough to come up with something that could do that was Cilius.” 

As he speaks, Belial holds up a vial of dark liquid, swirling its contents lazily about. 

“You could even call it a _virus_ of sorts… A substance that’s designed to be injected into the target primal beast and parasitize its core. Cilius also wanted to have it serve a dual purpose of being able to repair any core degradation or damage. Of course, he didn’t manage to get far enough to complete his work before...you know.” Belial moves his hand across his neck in a chopping motion. “Buuut… Since that research wasn’t related to Cilius’ grand finale, and since other Astrals wanted to keep it around just in case, Lucifer and the archangels didn’t touch it.”

“Belial… Don’t tell me you…”

Belial tosses the vial up, then catches it in his hand again. “I knew where Cilius stored all of his materials, so getting my hands on this ‘primal virus’ was easy. All that was left was to ‘override’ Lucifer’s consciousness with Cilius’. For that to happen, I needed to add a little something to the virus, namely...

_“Cilius’ brain.”_

The look that crosses Beelzebub’s half-obscured face is one part impressed, one part appalled, and one part disgusted. “So you kept Lucilius’ head for this reason...”

“Well, sort of. I mean, if you had just kept to the plan, I would’ve been able to sew Cilius’ head onto Lucifer’s body, easy. But that kind of thing takes time, so if I did that now, it’d still take months for Cilius to actually awaken. Luckily, we had a mole with the Singularity…”

“That fallen angel from earlier…”

“That’s right. So I thought we’d make the most of the situation. Infect Lucifer with Cilius’s consciousness, have Cilius kill the Sandy and the Singularities in their sleep, commence the grand finale… Of course, even _that_ was taking too long, so we had to speed things up a little.”

“You fool... That ‘primal virus’ was still in its experimental stages. Even if it were to repair the damage I dealt to Lucifer’s body and core, what makes you think that it’d be Lucilius who awakens?”

“I just said, didn’t I? A game’s no fun without a couple of gambles.” Belial’s mouth twists into a cruel smirk. “Besides, don’t you think it’d just be so lovely? The sight of Cilius _stamping out every trace of Lucifer’s existence,_ that is.”

As Beelzebub digests the information in an uneasy silence, Belial claps his hands together.

“Okay,” he says cheerily. “I’ve grown bored of just waiting. What say you we kill some time with a game of chess?”

“...hmph. Very well. I’ll indulge you, if only because _some_ of your efforts have yielded favourable results,” Beelzebub says, eager to change the topic to something else. “But don’t get too used to it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” 

As Beelzebub leaves to make the preparations, Belial hears a sound from the casket and quickly turns back to it.

“Awake already? Rise and shine...” The excitement quickly fades and he sighs. “Ah, wrong one. Way to lead a guy on. You’re always such a killjoy, Lucifer.”

There is no response. Lucifer’s breaths come in shallow gasps, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he tries to keep them open. His left arm lies uselessly on the bed of the casket; his right is clasped to his left side, where a months-old injury still heals, but it does little to abate the agony that wracks his entire body. Belial hums thoughtfully as he gazes down at the suffering primarch.

“Ooh, that’s a really nice expression. You must be in serious pain if you’re letting that much show on your face,” he says as Lucifer looks to him. “I take it back. I don’t mind if you want to stay awake a little longer. Go on, try and fight it. Let’s see how long that legendary endurance lasts you.”

Lucifer’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out. His silent words aren’t lost on Belial, who only laughs raucously.

 _“Why did I betray the primarchs,_ you ask? Come on, Lucifer. Cilius created you to rival him in intellect… Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Belial’s expression quickly sours. “I told you 2000 years ago: I didn’t _betray_ you. I was never on your side to begin with. It was _your_ fault for trusting me so blindly, Lucifer. You didn’t even think to suspect my involvement in the rebellion until the very last moment. 

“Or could it be, that you knew all along, but you refused to accept it? Because you were so desperate to keep the one thing you had left after sealing Sandy away and killing Cilius?” He chuckles. “How much pain could you all have been spared if you had gotten rid of me from the start? Really now, Lucifer, the only one to blame for your suffering is you.” 

The pain that flickers across Lucifer’s eyes has little to do with his ailing body, and Belial can see it as clear as day. The archangel of cunning grins cruelly as he leans over the casket. He knows exactly where Lucifer’s wounds are, and he knows exactly what to say to tear them wide open. 

“Don’t look so sad, Lucifer. It’ll be all over soon,” he coos. “I’ll grant you the mercy you’ve always wanted. See? In spite of how I feel about you, I’m doing you a favour, from one fellow primarch to another. That’s more than what you’ve ever done for us.” With a deceptively gentle hand does Belial caress Lucifer’s cheek, his voice oozing sweet venom. “You’re close, aren’t you? Come on, Lucifer, just let go already… Why are you still holding on? Are you waiting to see if anyone comes for you? Don’t be silly...”

Belial looms over the suffering primarch before lowering himself down and speaking no louder than a whisper into Lucifer’s ear.

_“Who would bother to save you…? No one would follow a failure like you.”_

Lucifer’s eyes widen briefly as the words sink in, jarring enough, painful enough, a blow _precise_ enough so that he loses his grip on his consciousness, and it slips away from him at the same moment the intensifying pain shoots through his body. As he feels the darkness swallowing him whole, Lucifer is left with only the faintest image of plumes the colour of chestnut and cream and a warm, innocent smile, before his sense of self abandons him entirely.

~~_Sa..._ ~~

* * *

 

The wind whips Sandalphon’s hair about as he stands at attention on the deck, his eyes focused on a faraway point in the skies.

From this distance, Pandemonium is but a tiny pinprick. It’s nothing like the towering structure that Sandalphon had escaped from three years ago, and its current size is hardly a reflection of the sprawling shadows and cold emptiness that threatened to consume him, made even more eerie by the cries of the fallen and the distorted screams of monsters who crave freedom.

When he remembers the dark halls that seemed to spread into an infinite, all-consuming darkness, Sandalphon feels the chill as if he were within its confines again. To say that he’s not eager to return to his prison would be an understatement. But two months of searching have finally yielded the location of the fallen angels, and so, Sandalphon vows to swallow his discomfort before they reach them.

_Wait for me, Lucifer-sama._

As the Grandcypher draws closer, Sandalphon sees a spot of red blotting out the blue skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, sweating, as I desperately pull things out of my ass to make it all work: Parkou r


	10. Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha boy! It sure has been four months or so since I last updated! I'm sorry about that, I got real busy and a whole bunch of Life happened and just. Yeah. 
> 
> Unfortunately, I don't think this chapter is very good either. Part of the wait is because I struggled greatly writing it... There are a lot of characters in it and I'm really not good at handling so many at once, so I'm sure things will feel choppy or not flow as well... I also feel like it drags on too but there was just nowhere for me to cut it in a good way so here we are;; Hopefully the next one will be better.
> 
> If some things sound familiar, it's because I lifted some of the dialogue directly from WMTSB3 part 1. I did try to summarize as much as I could since I didn't want to write a rehash of what everyone has already read, but there were certain parts that I had to leave in in full just so that they'd make sense (this is particularly the case with Belial's and Sariel's conversation).
> 
> Also I'm uploading this well beyond midnight so it's not proofread at all! I'll probably speed edit it tomorrow morning as I regret the many, many bad decisions I've made in life

“Have you finished emptying the contents of your stomach yet?” Azazel quips, an air of smug satisfaction floating about him as he stands over the wobbly and queasy Sandalphon after the Grandcypher’s turbulent venture into Pandemonium’s wall.

“Figures that such a brainless _brute_ would be completely in his element on such a rough ride,” Sandalphon manages through dry gasps, angrily getting to his feet and cursing how unsteady his legs feel on solid ground.

“Oh, and _you’re_ the picture of delicacy?! You’re barely even fledged!”

“What are you even doing here?! You should be helping with the battle outside!” 

“I told you,” Azazel says, jabbing a clawed thumb towards his own chest. “I’m going to kill Belial. I owe that serpent a 2000 year old debt, and I intend to repay it fully today.”

“I was here first. Get in line.”

“Enough.” Michael’s terse voice interrupts their squabble before it can truly begin. “We don’t know what awaits us at Pandemonium’s summit. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Heeeey!”

Vyrn’s call signals his approach as he flies towards the primarchs. “Djeeta said the path’s clear, but we don’t know for how long! Let’s get moving!”

* * *

 

Pandemonium’s empty halls don’t remain that way for long. Writhing, serpentine abominations crawl from the shadows and manifest as beasts unlike any creature that makes its home in the skies; “Otherworldly beings,” Michael calls them, and Gran and Djeeta are intimately familiar with them too, having had to guard Lyria and Vyrn from them countless times. 

But they aren’t the only obstacles. Azrael and Israfel, former archangels of instruction, obstruct their path deeper into Pandemonium, and Michael insists that she owes a duty to them and stays behind to confront them. The remainder of the crew sprints through the dark halls before there can be any further interruptions. But just as Sandalphon thinks that they’re in the clear, he hears Azazel’s sharp cry.

_“Watch out!”_

The fallen primarch tackles Sandalphon to the ground abruptly at the same time an ebon blade whistles through the empty air where Sandalphon’s neck had once been. He is not so much winded from the sudden tumble against the hard rock as he is startled, and he looks to Azazel in shock.

“Azazel, you…?!”

“Don’t give me that look. I’m just paying you back for saving me during our assignment together.” Azazel bares his fangs as he glares at their assailant. “We have important things to worry about.”

Sandalphon follows his gaze to the shadows of the hallway. Olivia stands at the foot of the shadows, silently recalling her blade to her side and brandishing it alongside the one she hadn’t thrown. Sandalphon and Azazel slowly rise to their feet to face their newest opponent.

“Olivia…” Though he can see Djeeta and Gran hesitating to take up arms against a former crew member, Sandalphon’s hand hovers over the hilt of his own blade, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. “Good. This saves me the trouble of finding you myself…”

But he’s stopped by Azazel, who steps in front of him. “She’s mine,” Azazel snarls. “I’ll pay her back tenfold… For what she did to my wings, and the role she played in Lucifer-sama’s abduction.”

“I don’t want to fight a fellow fallen angel,” Olivia says, though her stance doesn’t relent; Azazel has similarly prepared his knives. “I’m doing this for your sake too--for all of our sakes. Can you not see that?”

“Shut up! If you’re so intent on averting your eyes to the truth, then you clearly have no need for them! I’ll do you a favour and gouge them out of their sockets for you!”

“Are you sure about this?” Sandalphon asks. “You were prattling on about how intent you were on killing Belial with your own two hands fifteen minutes ago.” 

In spite of what he says, Sandalphon is already withdrawing his blade. Neither he nor the twins voice their silent relief but Azazel must have caught onto it as well, for he takes another step towards Olivia. His black wings are displayed at full girth as if to obscure the crew from sight and usher them forward.

“Spare me your worry. I’m more than a match for her on my own in a fair fight. I’ll deal with her with time to spare to rip Belial’s throat from his neck.” He looks back to Sandalphon. A rare expression crosses his face; it’s one that almost resembles _yearning._ It looks almost out of place on Azazel’s face.  “I’m loathe to admit it, but Lucifer-sama treasured you. He treated all life equally, but it was clear as day to anyone with working eyes that he favoured you above all else. You’d do well to repay him for that by at least being the one to save him.”

“Azazel…”

“But I won’t forgive you if you kill Belial before me! Tear his wings from his back and rip his limbs off if you must, but I will be the one to crush his core to dust. His life is mine!”

“...Hmph. Then you’d best make sure to catch up to us, Azazel!” 

With that, Sandalphon turns on his heel and dashes away from the fallen angels, leaving the conflicted crew to follow. “I won’t let you!” Olivia shouts as she makes to intercept their path, aiming her dark magic towards them, but her attack is blocked by Azazel’s black serpents.

“Your fight is with me! I’ll make you rue the day you betrayed us!”

He lunges and the fallen angels clash, the sound of their battle already fading into the darkness behind Sandalphon. With Azazel’s conviction in mind, he isn’t concerned about what they’ve left behind. Instead, he worries for what lies before them.

The enemies dwindle in number as they near Pandemonium’s exit, and with nothing but the sound of the crew’s footfalls on stone, the tower’s halls have grown eerily silent once again. Even more worrying yet is the fearsome aura that swells at Pandemonium’s summit. Sandalphon recognizes it with dread in his sinking heart. But he has little time to ruminate on it. An explosion rocks the entire structure, and he knows he must act in haste, and anxiety locks his heart in its icy grip. Even with comrades at his side...

_Comrades…_

...Or perhaps the knowledge that he _isn’t_ alone _does_ help. How alien this feeling is, to know that no matter what he will face, he will no longer have to do so on his own. He will be beside people he trusts, and people who trust him.

He thinks back to the conflict outside, where skydwellers have gathered from all corners of the skies to pool their power together and deal with the world’s greatest threat yet. Lancelot of Feendrache and Albert of Levin and Naoise of Irestill and Charlotta of Lumiel; Ilsa and the Society, and Cagliostro with worldly knowledge that predates even that of the primarchs; mortals who would have little chance to interact otherwise, yet have come together to create so well-oiled of a machine that if Sandalphon hadn’t known otherwise, he would’ve thought that they had all been born and raised together.

_Europa mentioned it… That you deemed the cooperation between mortals as beautiful as the verdant greenery of nature itself._

_I think I understand what you were thinking now, Lucifer-sama._

And he wants to tell him as much. 

So even in the face of the dreadful unknown, he resolves to meet whatever awaits him head-on, running towards the light until the walls of Pandemonium fall away and crimson skies spread above him again.

That resolve, however, doesn’t make him any more prepared for the sight that greets him when he emerges onto Pandemonium’s summit.

Lying before him are the remnants of battle-torn debris. He’s only vaguely aware of the heavily injured Belial and Sariel in his peripheral. His eyes immediately focus on the tallest figure there, who stands facing a smoking crater where Sandalphon assumes a person once stood. Though the man’s back is turned, and though the jagged, black armour that barely clings to his skin is different from his usual garb, Sandalphon can recognize him.

Lucifer.

_No._

He knows the man isn’t Lucifer the moment he turns. 

He knows those frigid eyes all too well.

The supreme primarch’s wings immediately spring from Sandalphon back and bristle as he glares at the loathsome figure. He doesn’t wait for his target to acknowledge their arrival before he unleashes all of his power in a single attack.

_“Paradise Lost!”_

Beams of golden light hurtle towards his enemies, raining destruction down on everything they touch. An explosion rocks Pandemonium for the umpteenth time, sending a dense cloud of dust and debris into the air. 

“What a huge explosion…!” Lyria’s voice is muffled by the smoke surrounding them. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face!”

Vyrn manages to navigate his way through the dust, hovering just above Sandalphon’s shoulder. “Did you get ‘em, Sandalphon?!” 

“Damn it, no… Something canceled out my attack. Something equal to Lucifer’s power...”

And when the dust clears, rather than the carnage he had been expecting, Sandalphon instead sees onyx wings cocooning their owner, who stands unscathed even in the face of such a deadly attack.

_“Lucilius…”_

He’s only half aware of the startled responses around him. Sandalphon’s eyes are fixed on Lucilius and he sees _red,_ and the supreme primarch’s wings flare in response to his rage. Lucilius doesn’t respond. A mixture of disinterest and disdain crosses the Astral’s visage, and he stares at Sandalphon as if he’s stepped in something unpleasant. His eyes travel from the current supreme primarch to his companions; Djeeta and Gran flank Sandalphon with their weapons drawn, Lyria and Vyrn staying close behind them, and all four of them watch the scene unfolding with trepidation.

“Lucifer’s spare,” Lucilius mutters. “And...not one, but two Singularities, flanked by the girl in blue and the red dragon. You failed to mention this in your report, Belial.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Cilius. I might’ve missed a few of the details while I was bleeding out. You know, from the stab wound that I still have. Because I got stabbed.” As backhanded as Belial’s words appear to be, he speaks with enough poise to imply that he’s enjoying himself. “And Sandy, _do_ be more careful? You didn’t hold back with your attack at all! Was Lucifer’s arm not enough for you? You’ll tear him to pieces at this rate! What’s left of him, anyway,” he adds with a chuckle.

“So this was your plan all along,” Sandalphon growls, his fists clenched and quaking with fury. “To use Lucifer-sama’s body for something like this…!”

“Artists can use their creations however they please, can’t they?” Belial laughs. “Besides, did you really think Lucifer would’ve ever woken up with the injuries that Bubs gave him? He would’ve been sleeping until the end of time if it weren’t for me! But now, his core is whole again... You should be grateful, Sandy. Ah… But he’s not really ‘Lucifer’ anymore, is he?” Belial flashes Sandalphon a grin that drips with malevolence, completely undiminished even with his grievous injuries. “Poor, poor Lucifer… The skydwellers will never know who he is or what he’s done for them, but at the very least, I’ll always treasure the very last expression he ever made. That _lovely_ anguish on his face…”

His ecstasy is cut short. Belial is forced to leap out of the way as an indigo saber cuts through the air at breakneck speed and impales the spot where Belial was once standing. Sandalphon silently recalls it to his side. The fury blazing in his eyes speaks for itself.

_“I’ll never let you get away with what you’ve done.”_

“So grumpy,” Belial exaggerates a dramatic sigh, then turns to Lucilius.  “What should we do, Cilius? This one’s cute, but pretty feisty.”

“Idiotic… Since you are so incompetent, I suppose it falls on me to clean up your mess.”

Six black wings flare out behind Lucilius, and the very sight of his formidable silhouette strikes sudden fear into Sandalphon’s heart, throwing him back 2000 years.

_Sandalphon had only seen Lucifer in battle once. That single time was etched so deeply into the crevasses of his mind that he could spend several lifetimes attempting to banish it to no avail._

_It had been during the rebellion. Though Sandalphon had seen it through Lucifer’s memories in dreams over the past year, he knew it best from his own; he had relived that day countless times in the 2000 years he had spent in Pandemonium as demons of his past haunting him the same way the moans and skybound curses of the fallen did._

_The day he had lost everything--the day that he had torn it all down himself._

_Those who had sided with the Astrals, and those who had sided against them: archangels and fallen angels alike had succumbed to the instigator’s sweet wiles, convinced that they were fighting for a cause far greater than themselves, their raison d’etres as numerous as the stars. Sandalphon, who had felt his whole world crumbling around him, fought to prove that his existence_ wasn’t _meaningless, that he_ wasn’t _useless scrap, that if he could make the_ one person _who ever mattered to just_ look at him _as more than just a pet, then his entire miserable life would’ve meant something--_

_Lucifer had only entered the battlefield when the two sides had reached an impasse, and more impressive than the silent coordination between Lucifer’s most skilled warriors was the way the morale had shifted in an instant._

_“The supreme primarch has joined us!”_

_The single rally heralded Lucifer’s descent from the clouds above. Archangels advanced with renewed fervor, moving in waves upon waves to corale their adversaries into one place as Lucifer spread his wings in a flurry of pure white feathers._

_How in awe Sandalphon had been then, to see Lucifer, shining, radiant Lucifer, appearing from the parted heavens and illuminating the sky like a second sun._

_How afraid he had been then, when he realized that the silhouette he had only ever known to be comforting and gentle could be so fierce, so ruthless, so_ terrifying.

_How regretful he had been then, to have been so swept up into his emotions that rationality had abandoned him._

_How he wished he could take it all back as the radiance that Lucifer emanated blinded him and the infinite light that rained down from Lucifer’s wings seared and scorched his body and all those around him._

When Sandalphon looks upon Lucilius’ figure now, with his black wings spread and power pooling behind him, he sees the sight that had been burned into memory again, and he knows what’s coming.

**“Everyone, get back!”**

But Lucilius is too fast.

_“Paradise Lost!”_

Crimson light bursts from Lucilius’ wings and pierces through the air, battering the weathered stone of Pandemonium and sending shards of sharpened rock flying as it tears towards his targets. Sandalphon can feel the heat burning his skin before the attack even reaches them and he knows escape is futile. The most he can do is turn and spread the supreme primarch’s wings to shield the others. The first stream of light strikes him square in the back; the second and third rip through his wings, and even more blasts inundate his body again and again until black spots begin to blot out his vision.

And in spite of all that, even with Sandalphon taking the brunt of the blow, it’s not enough. The attack scatters the crew as Sandalphon and the twin captains are blown off their feet, sent tumbling painfully to the ground in a shower of debris and dust. Sandalphon tastes both dirt and iron as his battered body rolls to a halt on the jagged rock. Gran and Djeeta land some distance away, he can hear Vyrn’s cry through the ringing in his ears, and Lyria…

Where’s Lyria?

His broken, injured wings are riddled with holes and feel like deadweight, sagging heavily over his back as he raises himself onto all fours, but all of the pain feels so far away with the horror-filled realization that Lyria didn’t get away unscathed either. She lies on the ground closest to Belial and Lucilius, the latter of which advances with his sword in hand.

“Kill the girl in blue, and you kill the Singularities, is it?” Lucilius says, his sword raised. “It will be interesting to see how the Omnipotent’s world fares without its pawns… Shall we test it?”

“Lyria!” Sandalphon chokes on dust and blood, struggling to his feet but falling back onto the ground. “Lyria, _run!”_

Though Lyria has pushed herself onto all fours, she appears frozen to the spot, staring seemingly transfixed at Lucilius as he draws closer with his sword drawn.

 _“Lyria!”_  

She doesn’t move. Sandalphon doesn’t know whether she’s been intimidated into inaction--

_“NO!”_

\--but adrenaline shoots through Sandalphon’s veins and he pushes himself up and past the pain. The supreme primarch’s wings dissolve into light and even so, Sandalphon runs, throwing himself in front of the girl as Lucilius brings his sword down. The sight of Sandalphon’s back finally seems to startle Lyria out of her daze, and she watches as the blade comes down on Sandalphon, too horrified to even scream as Sandalphon braces himself for a painful end--

\--that never comes.

Silence falls over the terrace. It’s as if time itself has stopped. Sandalphon dares open his eyes (when had he closed them?) and finds Lucilius’ saber hovering just inches from his face.

The arm that holds the blade a hair’s breadth away from Sandalphon’s head is shaking. 

The tremors don’t suit the expression of the blade’s wielder, whose brows are furrowed in both irritation and confusion. In fact, Lucilius seems to be _struggling_ to move the sword any closer to Sandalphon. He clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“You…” Lucilius growls, and to Sandalphon’s surprise, the Astral doesn’t appear to be talking to him. 

“What…?”

Confusion breeds inaction and before Sandalphon can react further, three pairs of tattered leathery black wings envelope Lucilius and pull him back and away. Still, it’s the reprieve they need; Gran and Djeeta finally recover, rushing to Lyria’s side and pulling her from the fray as well. Belial sighs once he’s moved a suitable distance away and unfurls his wings, letting Lucilius back onto the ground.

“Oops. Looks like there are still some kinks that need to be ironed out,” Belial says. Lucilius glares at the primarch of cunning.

“Belial. What exactly did you do to Lucifer’s body?”

“Don’t look at me like that! I’ll give you my full report later, I promise. Right now, we’ll have to deal with the little sparrow and his flock.”

“Fighting isn’t an option. I can feel _him_ trying to interfere with my every move… And you’re in a sorry state yourself.”

 _Him?_ Sandalphon is thrown for a loop, still trying to process the information. _Him who?_

_...Lucifer-sama?_

_Lucifer-sama… He’s still in there. He’s still fighting!_

_If I can just separate them..._

He doesn’t waste another second. While Lucilius and Belial are preoccupied, Sandalphon lunges for the two, his sword trained on Belial. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Belial turns just in time to see the tip of Sandalphon’s sword leveled at his throat and for one moment, for just one satisfying moment, Sandalphon can see the genuine shock flash across Belial’s face as the steel is about to tear into his flesh. 

The moment lasts for but a split second. Metal clashes against metal and Sandalphon’s sword is redirected from its intended target in an instant with a force that sends numbing tingles through his sword arm.

_“Don’t touch him!”_

“What the…?!”

Sandalphon leaps away as Sariel brandishes his scythe. Though the fallen angel is unsteady on his feet, and though he is missing a wing from each of his two usual pairs, he stands at the ready, clearly unwilling to back down. Belial relaxes seeing Sariel poised for battle in front of them. 

“Whew… That was a close one. Good to see you back to your senses, Sarry,” Belial says. “How are those destructive impulses?”

“Fine… I feel like myself again. It was your words that helped me push back the darkness of the void. Thank you.”

Sandalphon gnashes his teeth both out of frustration and because he can see, clear as day, Sariel reliving the same dreadful pattern, the same mistakes, as Sandalphon had experienced himself. “Don’t you understand what’s happening here, Sariel? You were just an experiment to the two of them! The formation of the fallen angels was only ever to fulfill Lucilius’ schemes--” 

“I don’t care.”

The words are spoken with such resolve that Sandalphon finds his arguments dying in his throat. 

“Primal beasts were always tools,” Sariel says. “Sentience was an inconvenient by-product of our creation. But the deputy head never treated me as a tool. He gave me assignments suited to my personality rather than my abilities. So...I’m fine with this.” 

And in Sariel’s bright blue eyes, sees a storm of pain, of turmoil. In Sariel’s bright blue eyes, Sandalphon sees his own suffering reflected in them, and he understands. He knows that nothing he says will be able to convince Sariel to change his mind. 

No matter how misguided Sariel is.

Sandalphon knows he was the same way at one point. And he was shown no mercy either.

“Very well. If you stand against me--” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gran and Djeeta preparing their swords again, and his lips curve into a smile for a split second. “--against _us_ of your own free will, then…”

Though battered as the twin captains are, Sariel needs only take a single glance at the two of them joining Sandalphon’s side to get an idea of his odds. He risks sparing Belial a glance. “Deputy Head… We won’t be able to defeat all of them in our current condition. I will shield you while you regenerate.”

“Oookay,” Belial drawls. “I’ll get on that regeneration.”

“Yes. Then look for your opportunity to retreat with the Head Researcher.” He turns back to Sandalphon and readies his scythe. “Have no fear. As one of the fallen angels, I will protect you--”

The sound of sharpened nails tearing through flesh and bone reverberates throughout the 0terrace.

Sandalphon’s eyes widen with shock, yet it is nothing compared to the look in Sariel’s eyes. 

“Depu...ty?” Sariel’s voice comes as a hoarse whisper. 

“I had a theory, you see. One that involves the Avatar’s power.” With his free hand, Belial runs his fingers along Sariel’s frayed, blood-stained feathers. It’s a deceptively gentle touch, yet Sariel remains frozen in place, completely at Belial’s mercy. “The wounds inflicted by Bubs’ chaos matter can only be repaired by external means. Case in point,” Belial motions to Lucilius, who is currently removed from the present, caught in a seemingly internal struggle still. “I used the primal virus to bring Cilius back, so there’s nothing else for me here...except for that delicious destructive power in your wings. I’m curious… Will they help repair the wounds Bubs inflicted on me?”

Belial chuckles, his fingers digging into the base of Sariel’s wings as Sariel lets out a strangled gasp. “Wings tainted by void’s destructive impulses… Really, I wanted to taste your core...”

And just when the sight has only begun to sink in, Belial rips his hand from Sariel’s back, taking his wings as he does. Sariel crumples to the ground, unmoving. Lyria screams as Sandalphon, Djeeta, and Gran, all equally horrified, can only watch as yet another falls victim to Belial’s schemes.

“Thanks. You really were a good little soldier ant.”

The severed wings dissipate in Belial’s hand, only to reform at his back. They twist and snap into existence in a ghastly display of bones breaking and fusing over and over again, writhing as if alive. Crimson horns emerge from Belial’s temples, his eyes glinting an even deeper shade of red. Eight black wings spread from his back, casting an imposing shadow upon his adversaries. The holes in his original wings have already begun to close. 

“So this is the Avatar’s thirst for destruction. Like a billion needles shooting through my bloodstream…” Belial begins to laugh. “The power to drag god from his throne…”

Sandalphon barely has the time to process what has happened. Alarmed, he turns to Gran and Djeeta. “He’s coming! Prepare yourselves!”

But before any of them can move, a small voice sounds behind Sandalphon.

“Belial?”

To Sandalphon’s further shock, Olivia has stumbled to his side, riddled with injuries that fester with venom. One of her arms has been gouged to the bone, hanging uselessly at her side. Her wings have been shredded; it’s impossible to tell feather from flesh from bone with the way they’re mangled.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Azazel?!” Sandalphon asks. Olivia ignores him, staring at Belial’s new form.

“Belial… What did you do?”

“Oh, Ollie! Right on time. Why don’t you help us out too? Just come a little closer…”

Olivia remains frozen in place. Belial sighs.

“No? And here I thought you’d be willing to do _anything_ for your brethren…”

“I sided with you _because_ you told me that we would be saving _our_ brethren-- _all_ of them, without a single sacrifice! And yet you…!”

“I guess you saw everything, huh…” Another sigh. “But it was a small sacrifice for the bigger picture. The _grand finale,_ that is.” 

Sandalphon tenses, poised to strike while the fallen angels are talking, but all of Belial’s blades are leveled on him and the crew. Olivia, who is still oblivious to the tension between the two primarchs, remains fixated on Belial.

“Grand finale…?” She stumbles past Sandalphon. Her eyes search Belial’s, as if desperately searching for a sign, any sign, that this is all an elaborate ruse. “What are you talking about?! All I wanted was freedom for our brethren!”

“Yes, Ollie. Our poor, pitiful brethren, trapped not only in Pandemonium, but the meaningless, eternal cycle that we were created to live through, forever and ever. Do you know the quickest, most surefire way to end this cruel cycle?”

Olivia can only pale further than she already is. “Then all this time I was…”

“Furthering our cause for world annihilation? Yeah, kinda. And if you aren’t going to continue with that, then Cilius and I don’t have any use for you. I won’t get anything out of your ruined wings either. But you helped me out greatly. In return, why don’t I send you off to your freedom first?” 

He is before Olivia in the blink of an eye. The stunned primarch can only stare at the glowing sabers hovering just above them both, their points leveled on her.

“Keep Sarry company for me, will you?”

“Olivia!” Sandalphon is already moving before her name has completely left his mouth. He knows he won’t reach her. He knows, and he also knows he owes her nothing, and yet--

He won’t reach her. 

_“Olivia!”_

He doesn’t have to reach her. 

Two winged shadows dart past Sandalphon from Pandemonium’s depths and intercept the blades before they come down on their intended target. 

“That’s enough from you,” Michael growls, and though her sword trembles with the effort it takes to hold Belial’s blade back, she holds her position. Azazel, too, struggles to parry Belial in his injured state but refuses to succumb.

“Do you see now, Olivia?” Azazel says, his voice strained. “That _snake_ cares nothing for our kind, or this world. He tells you lies, sweet-talks you with things that you want to hear so he can manipulate you for all that you’re worth… As for our _creator_ ,” Azazel spits out the word. “He’s no different either. We’re all nothing but disposable pawns to him!”

“Azazel… Michael, I--”

“Save it. We’ll deal with you after we’ve culled the lies at the root!”

Belial clicks his tongue and leaps back. The tip of Michael’s crimson sword just barely misses him, clipping off a strand of hair, and he dusts himself off nonchalantly as he stares the new arrivals down. “You both want a round with me too? Aren’t I Mr. Popular tonight?”

“Belial.”

For the first time, Belial’s smile fades as he glances towards the hunched figure behind him. Michael wavers for a split second as the revelation of the identity of the man strikes her. 

“What… Lucifer-sama?! How… And why is he...”

“Be careful, Michael!” Sandalphon says. “That’s Lucilius! He’s using Lucifer-sama’s body!” 

Lucilius’ black wings have curled stiffly around him, rendered useless and incapable of flight despite their apparent health, and though he’s clearly grappling to maintain his consciousness, he manages a cold glare towards the crew--then towards Belial.

“How much longer are you going to waste my time here?” he growls. “We’re done here. My final obstacle awaits.”

“Ooookay. Right you are.” Belial chuckles, then turns back to the crew. “Sorry, everyone. I’d love to play more, but Cilius and I have got a divine date at Etemenanki. I hope you enjoy the grand finale from your front row seats--if you can survive this first, that is.”

The crew’s only warning for the attack coming their way is the way Belial’s wings spread and the way darkness pools behind him. 

**_“Anagenesis.”_ **

Violet death hurtles towards the gathered group, a powerful spell in its own right, and enhanced by the Avatar's essence. The attack seems to rend the air, spelling certain doom for anything that it hits. Michael pulls Olivia and the downed Sariel out of the blast range. Azazel just barely dives out of the way, and the rest of the crew scatters to avoid the oncoming blasts. Belial’s attack inundates the ground, leaving it more pockmarked and broken than it was before. For the umpteenth time, an explosion rocks the entirety of Pandemonium.

Dust and debris clog Sandalphon's lungs yet again, but this time, he doesn't have to see the crew verify their survival. He can already hear their groans before the dust has settled.

But as he lifts his heavy head, he realizes with a sinking heart that they're now alone on the terrace. Belial and Lucilius are nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was Lucilius really having a mental wrestling match with Lucifer for the entire last half of the chapter? I guess he was (I told you I can't handle so many characters at once) (Here's hoping that the next chapter doesn't have as many of the [character does nothing so that important exposition can be brought to light] moments that this one did)
> 
> (Sariel is going to be okay. Don't worry be happy )
> 
> (I also deeply regret that the writing choices I made meant that I wouldn't be able to integrate Michael stealing Eugen's gun into the chapter u_u but it's for a good cause...hopefully......)


	11. Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pushes Chapter 10 aside* Fast update because I had about 80% of this chapter written while I was struggling with the previous one! And also to make up for not updating for four months before that. And it isn't a midnight update either!!! I'm on a roll!!!!!

“How are Sariel and Olivia?”

Azazel looks up, not even bothering to mask his disdain--not that he ever tries to in the first place. “They’ll be fine. Sariel’s holding on, and Olivia will be able to recover from her wounds. And I’m fine too, thanks for your concern,” he says with a scoff, and Sandalphon rolls his eyes.

“If you have enough energy to talk like that, then I have no reason to doubt you...even though your pitiful appearance attests to the contrary,” he says, nodding towards Azazel’s many injuries. The red of his recovering gashes are especially stark on his pallid skin, and his wings are torn and disheveled. “I’m curious, though. For all of your bravado, you took a while to reach us. Didn’t you say you’d deal with Olivia with time to spare to rip Belial’s throat from his neck?”

“Shut up. She’s stronger than you think... That said, I could’ve easily finished her off if she hadn’t run off in the middle of our fight. She said something about Lucilius awakening...”

Sandalphon can piece together what happened more clearly with this information in mind. Still, he can’t resist a light quip. Azazel is far too easy. “If the ‘middle of your fight’ coincides with when she reached the summit of Pandemonium, then you were already taking way too long… You really are all talk.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?! I’ll rip _your_ throat out next, brat!” 

“Is your first instinct always to yell at anyone who so much as breathes at you the wrong way?”

Azazel opens his mouth, a barbed retort hovering on the tip of his tongue...which promptly dies in his throat as his eyes travel past Sandalphon’s head to the one approaching them both. Michael places a hand on Sandalphon’s shoulder and speaks to him quietly.

“Sandalphon… A word. Privately, if you will,” she says, glancing towards Azazel. The fallen angel takes the cue, albeit reluctantly, clicking his tongue and skulking away to where the other battered combatants are resting in the reprieve that they have before they make their next move. Sandalphon turns to address the primarch of fire. He isn’t sure that he likes the gravity in her expression.

“What is it?”

“I’ll speak plainly. We may have to destroy Lucifer-sama ourselves.”

Sandalphon is silent, staring at Michael incredulously. The effect the words have on him is undeniable; the way they seem to physically assail his tired body, the way the blood seems to freeze in his veins. Even so, he still has trouble understanding what she’s saying. When he’s finally able to find his voice again, he has difficulty not tripping over his words. “...What? No… No! That can’t… Lucifer-sama’s still in there! You _saw_ the state Lucilius was in! He was fighting to maintain control over Lucifer-sama’s body because Lucifer-sama hasn’t given up yet!”

“And we don’t know how much longer he’ll last, Sandalphon. If we had been able to retrieve him, it would be a different story. But Belial is as crafty as he is cunning. He’ll surely find a way to ensure that Lucilius remains in control. To that end, we will have to consider that killing Lucifer-sama, and Lucilius with him, will be the only way to avert this grand finale that they’re planning.”

“That _can’t_ be the only way! Lucifer-sama was struggling! We can’t just abandon--”

“Believe me, I would want nothing more than to find another way. But Lucilius was already a dangerous adversary as an Astral… He will be even more so now with Lucifer-sama’s powers at his disposal. He’s far too great of a threat to leave unchecked.” Michael levels a scrutinizing stare on Sandalphon. “Need I remind you of the destruction that _you_ wrought with the power of six wings at your back?”

Sandalphon grimaces, lowering his head, his fists curling so tightly that his fingers threaten to puncture the fabric of his gloves. “...No. I understand all too well.”

“Then you must also understand that as the supreme primarch, you will need to act in the name of the skies. Even if it means turning your blade on the one that you treasure.” A pause, before Michael continues on. “Lucifer-sama once had to do the same as well.”

He is silenced by the guilt that comes from that implication. Sandalphon has no words left for her; not in the face of so biting a truth. Michael takes note of his despondence and sighs. Her voice softens.

“...It’s ultimately your decision to make, Sandalphon. Should you choose to spare both Lucifer-sama and Lucilius, then I’ll follow through with your wishes. It’s simply my duty as your adjutant to bring these concerns to your attention. And believe it or not, I speak in Lucifer-sama’s consideration as well.

“Should it come to it… If his life must end to ensure the prosperity of the skies, I’m sure he would rather it be by your hand than anyone else’s.”

The statement shakes Sandalphon to the core, and suddenly, he feels like he’s suffocating. He opens his mouth and no sound comes out. The weight of so heavy a responsibility has him in a chokehold, and Michael can see that there’s little more that Sandalphon can take. She places a hand on his shoulder again.

“There’s no need to make a choice now. However, time is ticking. Lucilius will not wait for your decision.”

She turns and leaves without another word, leaving Sandalphon to stew over her words, a new storm brewing in his heart.

_Destroy...Lucifer-sama._

_I might have to destroy Lucifer-sama?_

_That can’t be the only way. I won’t accept it. I can’t._

_...But Michael was right. I could see that the control he had over his own body was limited… And before then--before we came face-to-face--Lucilius’ consciousness was the one that was dominant._

_Belial will do whatever he can to make sure it stays that way._

_If it comes to that… It’s what you’d want, isn’t it, Lucifer-sama?_

_You’d want to be stopped before you tear everything asunder with your own hands._

_Because you love these skies more than anything--anyone--else._

He doesn’t realize how his core pounds in his chest, nor does he notice how shallow his breaths have become. All he’s aware of is the frigid chill that seems to encase his body, numbing him to anything and everything else...

_...I never wanted this._

_When I joined the rebellion…  I was so angry. I wanted to tear everything apart. I wanted to destroy all of creation… But never once did I want to destroy you. I never wanted to see you fall like this!_

_I…_

_I only wanted…_

“--S-Sandalphon…”

_...Why is this happening?_

“Sandalphon…”

 _What...what should I_ _do…?_

“Sandalphon!”

Sandalphon is jolted out of his deliberation by the sound of Lyria’s voice. His head snaps up to see the blue-haired girl running towards him, already out of breath.

“Lyria...” With a start, Sandalphon suddenly remembers her close call with Lucilius and momentarily forgets about his other preoccupations. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

The girl shakes her head, though she still seems a little breathless. Whether it’s because of the incident or something else, Sandalphon can’t tell. “I’m fine thanks to you… I wanted to thank you for saving me. B-but also…! I need to tell you something important! It’s really, really important!” 

It’s hard for Sandalphon to concentrate on anything else with so much weighing on his mind. But he knows that Lyria would never think to approach anyone for her own gain. If she’s this insistent, then she thinks only of helping him--or helping someone else. Bearing that in mind, Sandalphon decides to listen. “Very well. What do you want to tell me?”

“It’s, um… I don’t really know how to explain it… When Lucilius was coming closer to me, I heard someone’s voice. It was so quiet and weak…but I know it was there.”

“When he came closer to you… Is that why you didn’t run away?”

Lyria nods shamefully. “I was trying to listen for that voice. It was so hard to hear, and a little distorted… It had the feeling of something that had been torn apart then stitched back together. But in the end, I was able to hear it more clearly. Things like… ‘Run away.’ ‘Save yourselves.’”

There’s a sinking feeling in Sandalphon’s chest, but he can tell that Lyria has more to say. He nods, urging her to continue. “Go on…”

“When I really began to focus, I felt something much deeper. It was like…” She grips the hem of her skirt, her brows furrowed as she grapples for the right words. “Like something that had been suppressed for so long was finally being released. Or, a thread that’s been pulled so taut that it’s about to snap…

“Sandalphon… I think it was Lucifer’s voice. And it was almost like his heart was calling for help. He was calling for you.”

The first part is as Sandalphon expects, given what he knows; the second, not so much. He’s momentarily disarmed by the very notion of Lucifer asking him, asking _Sandalphon,_ of _all people,_ for help.

“For...for me? Lucifer-sama was…?”

“Yes. He was in a lot of pain, and...and maybe it was my imagination, because a lot of the things I felt from him were so muffled, or distant… But it almost felt like he was scared too.”

Sandalphon is skeptical at first. “Scared? Him? There’s no way someone like him would be…”

Then, the words die in his throat as he remembers yet another vision he had seen during one of his restless nights.

* * *

 

_It was a memory of a much earlier time, long before Lucifer had become the supreme primarch he had been known for, and long before Sandalphon had been created. Sandalphon had lived this memory in one of his many dreams. His vision awash in white, he found himself standing before one of the operation tables. Two figures came into view: Lucilius, who was leafing through papers of the newest report; and Lucifer, who sat quietly on the table. More striking still was Lucifer’s appearance; rather than the grand, gleaming armour that made him look so formidable, his form was swathed in the thin infirmary robes. Another one of Lucifer’s memories, Sandalphon had realized, and he started when Lucilius began speaking._

_“Hm… There were many casualties this time.”_

_At first, Lucifer was unresponsive. Sandalphon wondered whether the supreme primarch had even heard his creator speaking. And then, Lucifer nodded, and Sandalphon realized how downtrodden he looked, and how his shoulders seemed to sag in despondence._

_He realized that, stripped of his armour, with his wings curled around him and in the absence of anyone else, Lucifer seemed much smaller._

_“And yourself, Lucifer? You suffered severe damage too, didn’t you?”_

_“...It was nothing that I couldn’t restore.”_

_“I see. Good.”_

_“...My friend.”_

_Lucilius finally looked up from the papers at the sound of Lucifer’s sad voice. “Yes?”_

_“What will happen to the primarchs who fell in battle?”_

_“You’ve seen to it that the ones whose cores could be salvaged are recovering in cocoons already, haven’t you? Good grief… You didn’t even wait for your own body to stabilize.” The Astral shook his head. “No matter. You’ve proven that your recovery speed is second to none, so I can overlook it.”_

_“The primarchs whose cores couldn’t be salvaged… What will become of them?”_

_“They’re gone. Put them out of your mind, Lucifer. There’s nothing anyone can do for them.”_

_The expression that crossed Lucifer’s face then had been one of is one of pure, unsuppressed pain, so powerful that Sandalphon could feel it piercing into his own heart as if it were his own._

_“They’re gone because of me.”_

_“Don’t be foolish. Belial was the one who gave you faulty information. Because of that, I could’ve lost you. I’ll have to speak with him later.”_

_“What…? No… No, it’s not Belial’s fault.” Lucifer shook his head. “He must’ve been mistaken. Perhaps there was something he overlooked by accident, or an unknown factor that he couldn’t have predicted… I was the one who was unable to adapt to the situation. I didn’t even consider the possibility of so many enemy reinforcements...”_

_Lucilius sighed heavily. “If you want to think that way, then suit yourself. Now then, as soon as you’re fully recovered,  I’d like to discuss the report in detail, as well as what you and the primarchs were able to discover before you were attacked…”_

_“I think...I am still injured, my friend.”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_Lucifer appeared unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say next. Hesitating uncharacteristically, almost as if sounding the words out in his head before saying them, he finally began to speak._

_“When I remember the battle that transpired, it is as if a weight falls over my chest. I can still hear the cries of my subordinates, even though the battle has long passed. And when I hear them, I feel...ill. The sensation is painful, yet I can trace it to no physical wound.” The supreme primarch finally raised his head, and Sandalphon had been taken aback by how_ lost _he looked._

_“My friend… Am I defective? Is my regenerative capacity flawed? Or...”_

_It had been easy as day for Sandalphon to see that Lucifer was grieving, mourning for the loss of his comrades. But if Lucilius saw it too, he made no comment on it, scribbling something down onto his clipboard instead._

_“This is certainly unexpected,” the Astral mused. “No matter. What you suffer from can be rectified easily.”_

_“My friend…?”_

_“You have the power to suppress this ailment yourself. After all, you are my finest work, capable of surpassing all the stars in the sky. It all comes down to whether your will is strong enough.”_

_“My will…”_

_“The primarchs will lose heart if they see you crumbling. But you are far stronger than that. You are worthy of leading them--I made it so. You will move past this.”_

_“I...see.” It was clearly not what Lucifer had wanted to hear, though he also appeared to be at a loss of what he truly wanted. “I’ll do what I can… No, I’ll see to it that I overcome it, and learn from this experience. Thank you, my friend.”_

* * *

 

_Of course… You grieved and mourned. You felt pain. You always could feel pain, just like everyone else. Even if you didn’t necessarily realize it… Even if you weren’t allowed to decide for yourself what those feelings were._

_You can feel fear too, can’t you?_

“Sandalphon?”

For the second time, Sandalphon is shaken out of his reverie, coming to to the sound of Lyria’s doleful voice. She grasps his hands and holds on tightly. “There’s...something we can do, right? We can’t just leave him like that! We have to help him, Sandalphon…” 

Slowly, he feels himself calming. His breathing evens out again, and pounding in his chest slows.

“...Lyria. If what you say is true… If Lucifer-sama is in pain, and he’s afraid, and he’s calling for me… Then I want to save him. I want to find a way to free him from Lucilius’ control. But…”

“But…?”

“I’m also the supreme primarch.” Even now, the title feels heavy. Sandalphon has a hard time saying it. “I have to act in the name of the skies. And if there’s no way to reach him, then I can’t spare him from my blade. I’ll have to put my wishes aside and protect the world, even if it means striking Lucifer-sama down. It’s what Lucifer-sama would want me to do...”

“But...that’s too sad!” Lyria’s eyes glisten, threatening to spill over with tears. “It doesn’t have to end that way! I could feel him suffering so much… And I can feel _your_ suffering too, Sandalphon! You really want to save him, don’t you? That's why you asked me if we could save him together!” 

The primarch grits his teeth and turns away. Hiding the turmoil swirling in his eyes is a fool’s errand when Lyria can already feel it herself, yet Sandalphon tries anyway, cursing his own weakness. “I...I do want to save him. More than anything! But the supreme primarch can’t spare any threat to the world… Lucifer-sama never spared his enemies either, no matter how much it hurt him…”

“He spared _you!”_

Startled, he stares at Lyria, eyes widened with bewilderment and confusion.

“Lyria? What do you…” 

It dawns on him then. 

The cataclysms.

He had yelled at Lucifer after the cataclysms were over, slung barbed words of white hot hatred at him. He had given Lucifer every reason to punish him, to _despise_ him. And yet, in spite of it all, Lucifer had deigned to absorb Sandalphon into his own core instead of destroying him. He had always wondered why. He had always assumed that the eternity he had spent within that deceptively peaceful cocoon had been punishment.

But he had been wrong.

It had been meant to be an eternity of safety until he was ready to awaken again.

_You did it to protect me._

_You took me into your core to protect me from everyone else’s rage. You gave me a comfortable home in a cocoon that you hid in a place away from the world. A place that would be difficult for even the four primarchs to reach._

_When you were attacked, you could’ve easily left me behind and saved yourself. But you led your attacker away from my cocoon--away from me._

_You drew out the chase and endured the pain--the fear--so that I would be safe._

_You were prepared to die for me... So that I could live on._

_Everything you did up until now was to protect me._

_You spared no one who threatened the skies. You didn’t even spare your own creator. But you spared me._

_Because…_

_(--perhaps you will come to love this world as much as I did--)_

_(--as much as I love you.)_

_Because you love me like you love the skies._

He lets out a bout of shaky laughter, like a release of all of the pent-up _everything_ that’s been frothing within him, ready to spill over at any given moment. But it’s also as if a weight has been lifted from his chest. Sandalphon presses a palm to his forehead.

“How could I have been so blind…?”

“Sandalphon…?”

“Lyria, thank you. You helped me remember something important.” He returns the tight grasp that she has on his hand. “Come with me. Let’s go find the others. There’s something I want to tell them.”

Reassured by the determination blazing in his eyes, Lyria smiles through her tears and nods, letting go of Sandalphon’s hand to find Gran and Djeeta. Sandalphon elects to look for Michael instead.

He has his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, we're reaching the tail end of this fic so we're going to be upping the Cheese Factor. This chapter was pretty cheesy and it's about to get Even Cheesier. Because LuciSan deserves a cheeseball happy ending. They deserve it so badly
> 
> (Props to Lyria for helping Sandalphon through the existential crises he has every three chapters because I locked myself into some kind of weird formula for this fic) (This will definitely be his last existential crisis I promise)


	12. Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Sandalphon and Michael begin their conversation (particularly when Sandalphon says "Nature will take over our roles..."), for the best effect, please listen to [this bgm!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NKj6yyYSSU) You have the choice not to either of course, I just wrote it to that music so I thought it'd be cool to share the feeling.

The Grandcypher has been mercifully pulled from the wreck it’s made of Pandemonium’s wall thanks to Sierokarte’s infinite well of resources, and at Sandalphon’s request, the relevant parties reconvene in the mess hall.

“We checked in with Sariel, Olivia, and Azazel. Sariel’s unconscious, and Olivia’s pretty messed up… Understandably so,” Djeeta sighs. “Azazel’s still recovering too. He was more heavily injured in his battle with Olivia than he let on. And with all of our healers occupied, it’s likely he won’t be able to follow us to Etemenanki...wherever that is.”

“According to Eugen, Etemenanki is the ‘divine tower’ in the ‘creation myth,’” Gran says. “That goes about in line with what Belial and Lucilius were talking about. It’s supposedly in a place high in the sky where it’s hard for even airships to reach.”

Sandalphon nods. “We’ll deal with that when we’re ready to leave. For now, what’s the status with everyone else?”

“The archangels are going after the remainder of the fallen angels. As for the alliance, the last I heard of them, they headed deeper into Pandemonium because they saw one of the leaders of the fallen angels going inside,” Djeeta says.

“One of the leaders? It must’ve been that black-robed Astral… Will they be alright on their own? That man uses weapons that can kill primals…”

“He’s also up against the strongest warriors in the skies. You should know better than to underestimate us mortals!” Djeeta grins. _“Every_ weapon’s like a primal killing weapon to us, so we know how to deal with them!”

“Ha… I don’t doubt it, Singularity.”

“Sandalphon. You called us here for a reason, didn’t you? And I presume that reason goes beyond a mere status update. You’ve come to a decision, haven’t you?”

Michael’s level voice prompts Sandalphon to raise his head and he faces the other primarch, ignoring the confused stares around him. There is no more doubt in his eyes.

“I have.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“We’re going to save Lucifer-sama.”

Michael’s eyes scrutinize him, searching him for any sign of indecisiveness. She finds none; only firm resolution. “...As I said, I have elected to leave the verdict to you, and I will follow you regardless of what you choose. But you really will not reconsider? With all the risk involved, and the chance of failure--”

“‘Nature will take over our roles, and we primarchs can retire...and simply live.’”

The words bring Michael pause. She regards Sandalphon with surprise. The words are familiar to her, and Sandalphon knows that they are. Sandalphon continues speaking.

“That’s what Lucifer-sama told all of you, isn’t it? Because he wanted us to be free. He wanted us to live as people.”

“...He did tell us that much, yes.”

“But what he didn’t tell you, is that he wanted these things for himself too. More than anything, all Lucifer-sama desired was a simple life among equals.” He looks wistfully at the sky through the window. It’s still crimson, rather than the azure that Lucifer loved. “He’s wanted it all his existence.”

“Sandalphon…”

“Michael. It’s my turn to ask you to make a choice.” He looks back to her, and crimson and vermillion meet once again. “What do you want to do?”

“Is this a trick question? I wish to bring peace to the world--”

“I’m not asking you what _needs_ to be done.”

For the second time, Michael is stunned, attempting to navigate Sandalphon’s words without much success. “What do you…”

“My question wasn’t directed towards the primarch of fire. It was for _Michael._ What do you _want_ to do?”

“I don’t quite follow.”

“Then let me ask you another question,” Sandalphon says. “”What does Lucifer-sama mean to you?”

Michael stares at Sandalphon incredulously, looking as if she wants to combat his sudden interrogation, but seems to decide against it. Sighing, she answers quietly, “He is the person I admire and respect the most. He is strong, composed, valiant, and a brilliant leader. I aspire to be more like him.”

“And?”

Silent, Michael looks away. When she speaks again, it isn’t with the strength she usually commands; rather, there is a certain softness to her voice as she recalls the memories of her former leader. “...he is kind. Painfully so. Not only to me, but to everyone else. Whenever we are lost, he is there to guide us. Whenever we ail, he heals us, both with his light and his gentle words. In spite of my many failures to him as his adjutant, he never once spared me his smiles. I can name no individual more benevolent, more compassionate, more _giving_ , than Lucifer-sama.”

“That’s right… Lucifer-sama has given up more than anyone else, not only for the skies, but for us too. No matter what, he was always there for everyone.” Sandalphon’s eyes sting and his hands ball into fists. “Regardless of whether or not he was suffering himself…”

His resolve wavers for a split second, bogged down by guilt and grief--and then he feels small, warm hands close around one of his fists. He turns and sees Lyria looking up at him with an encouraging smile, and nods to him. Sandalphon smiles too, then looks back to Michael again.

“Is Lucifer-sama important to you?”

“...He is,” Michael says after a brief pause. She hesitates again, as if unsure of whether she’s allowed to give voice to what she wants to say next. After seeing Lucifer do the same so many times in memory, Sandalphon wonders if this is simply a quirk that all six-winged archangels share--a sad product of the way they are to live their lives. Finally, Michael speaks. 

“He’s...one of the most important people in the world to me.” 

“Then that’s enough, isn’t it?”

Michael is silent. 

“If Lucifer-sama is really so important to you, then there’s only one correct choice to make; to save him,” he says. “We have to save Lucifer-sama. I know you want to save him, Michael. Don’t lie to yourself anymore. You don’t want to give up on him--not when he never gave up on any of us. When he gave up so much _for_ us.”

“Sandalphon…”

“So why are you still hesitating? We have to save him! And we _can!_ We’ll find a way!” Desperation and emotion colour the timbre of his voice. He can’t seem to quell the slight quiver that’s present; a result of having to speak past the painful lump in his throat. He doesn’t care. For once, he doesn’t care how pathetic or childish or desperate he may sound. “To live as people is what Lucifer-sama wanted for all of us. Isn’t it about time that we answer to one of his wishes? If you truly value him, then...follow what your heart tells you.”

When Michael still doesn’t respond, Sandalphon presses onward, determined to give her the last push.

“Let this be the first action you take not as Michael, the primarch of fire...but as Michael, the skydweller!”

Silence falls over the room as the two primarchs’ eyes remain locked, the other inhabitants each unwilling to interfere with the clash of ideals. And then, Michael begins to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. _Heartily._ For a moment, Sandalphon feels indignant, wanting to question just what humor there is to be found in either his or Lucifer’s heartfelt wishes. But Michael beats him to it and speaks first.

“Hahaha! For a supreme primarch so rough around the edges, you certainly know how to make for convincing arguments. You’ve come a long way since you started stumbling around with those white wings on your back,” she says, a grin on her face. Sandalphon doesn’t know whether it’s his imagination, but she seems strangely unburdened now. “Fine! Come what may, we will save Lucifer-sama. I shall make it so, with all of my power...not as the primarch of fire, but as _Michael._ ” 

For a moment, Sandalphon can only stare at her in disbelief. But when her agreement sinks in, he nods strongly, feeling confidence bloom within him again. “Yes. We’ll do it together.”

“Heh. You’re starting to sound a lot like the mortals now, Sandalphon.”

“What can I say?” he says with a crooked smile as he looks from Lyria to Djeeta to Gran. They grin cheekily at him in turn. “They’re a horrible influence.”

 

* * *

“So we’re going to save Lucifer,” Gran says. “But does anyone have any ideas? We don’t know how Lucilius is controlling his body, but we know from the visions in the Celestial Strait that Lucifer killed him 2000 years ago. He probably doesn’t have a body of his own. You think we could exorcise his spirit out or something?”

“It’s unlikely that that is the means with which Lucilius is using Lucifer-sama’s body,” Michael says. “We primarchs are highly spiritual in nature. We naturally resist all forms of possession, even in instances where our bodies are weakened.”

Djeeta is next to come up with a suggestion. “Primal beasts have cores, don’t they? What if we removed Lucifer’s core to put him to sleep?”

But Michael shakes her head. “It’s true that primal beasts will merely fall into a slumber if they sustain fatal damage, but most beasts cannot survive core extraction. Even if Lucifer-sama is an exception, and he’s able to live through the strain and sleeps instead… For Lucilius to exert such a high degree of control over Lucifer-sama’s body, he must be bound directly to his core to begin with. At best, the method will stop his plans in the present, but Lucilius will awaken again in several hundreds of years and begin his grand finale anew.”

 _Core extraction…_ The words jog something in Sandalphon’s memory, but before he can massage the thought further, Vyrn floats down and lands on his head.

“Hey, Sandalphon, you kinda saw Lucifer strugglin’ against Lucilius, right? Didja do anything special to get Lucifer out?”

Sandalphon irritably brushes Vyrn off his head. “No. But maybe seeing my face may have prompted a reaction from Lucifer-sama. Lyria did mention that he was calling for me, if only subconsciously…”

“And I doubt that it’d work a second time. There’s no telling what Belial’s already done to him,” Michael says. “Sandalphon, you seemed to have something on your mind. Did you have an idea?”

“It’s not so much an idea, but talk of core removal made me remember something… What was it…”

_(“Perhaps now would be a good time to address streamlining the beast disposal process.”)_

_(“Streamlining? Don’t be so cold. If you’re going to put me down, at least take your time about it. Fine ingredients like these should be simmered slowly until they’re ready to burst.”)_

_(“You think beasts should be boiled?”)_

_(“Sure, just like a stew. Although that method takes time, I’ll admit. Isn’t there some way to prioritize core extraction?”)_

_(“It’s risky. Pain sends beasts into a rampage.”)_

“A rampage...”

“A...rampage?” Michael is aghast when the implication hits her. “Sandalphon, you can’t possibly mean…”

“It’d only be as a last resort, of course,” Sandalphon says quickly. “But I can’t help but wonder whether something like that will actually work.”

“You...may have a point,” she says slowly. “No matter how much control Lucilius has over Lucifer-sama’s body, rampaging is an instinct exclusive to primal beasts; Astrals like Lucilius have no such inclinations. So if we were to somehow to send Lucifer-sama into a rampage, it might force Lucilius to lose his control over Lucifer-sama’s body.”

“But...that’d require hurting him more, wouldn’t it?” Lyria says sadly. She’s intimately aware of the factors that force beasts to rampage. “He’s already in so much pain…”

“I’d rather it not have to come to that either, hence why it’d be a last resort,” Sandalphon replies. “But forcing Lucifer-sama to temporarily experience more pain is better than having to kill him.”

“I concur. But therein lies the problem… I have been beside Lucifer-sama through our longest, hardest battles, and I’ve witnessed him sustaining grievous injuries beyond your imagination. Not once was he ever inclined to rampage--not even a little.” Michael crosses her arms as she frowns contemplatively. “I’m assuming this was also the case when he was cornered by the one who attacked him in Canaan.”

Though the memory is painful, Sandalphon forces himself to relive it for the sake of the discussion. “That’s right. He was covered in injuries that festered with the dark matter from that man’s weapon. And his wings had been severed from his back… That bastard must have derived some twisted satisfaction out of torturing him before he decided to finish him off. But there were no signs that he would’ve gone on a rampage.”

“Lucifer-sama is a man of remarkable self-control, after all.”

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on!” Vyrn cries. “Are we _really_ thinkin’ of this as an idea?! Lucifer’s like, mega powerful, isn’t he? We could feel his strength just from standin’ in his presence!”

“I felt that too,” Lyria says. “He was so formidable when he appeared before us two years ago. I remember being relieved that he seemed so gentle.”

Michael nods. “Yes… That’s another thing. There’s great risk involved with a six-winged primarch rampaging, and even more so if it’s Lucifer-sama. If left unchecked and at full power, he’d be capable of destroying the world.”

“But this is the only plan that we have so far that has a chance of working.”

“Sandalphon… You really are entertaining this thought, aren’t you.”

“In the absence of all other options. If he’s able to come through just from seeing my face, then we won’t have to resort to that, but if we must… I am fully prepared to face him.”

“Oh? You’re more dauntless than I gave you credit for.” Michael smirks. “I mis-appraised you, Sandalphon. Maybe one day, we’ll be able to get along.”

“So you’ll only like me if I’m foolishly reckless? What nonsense is this?”

“I wasn’t aware that you were concerned with whether I liked you or not. But I digress. If this is truly the path you want to take, then I can only advise you accordingly. However, the fact still remains that it will be incredibly difficult to force Lucifer-sama to rampage. He is no stranger to pain, and he has endured things that would’ve destroyed any other being--primal beast or not.”

“Actually… If there’s any time for him to rampage, it’s now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like a thread that’s been pulled so taut that it’s about to snap…” Sandalphon glances down at Lyria, who nods her affirmation. “That’s what Lyria felt when Lucilius approached her. It’s hard to think of Lucifer-sama as anything _but_ invincible, but our image of him as an untouchable symbol is what led to Lucifer-sama being placed in this position in the first place.” Sandalphon’s brow furrows as he stares a hole into a spot on the Grandcypher’s floor. “He has his limits too. It’s just that he’s never been pushed to that point.”

“Those are dangerous words, Sandalphon. If you are implying what I think you are, who’s to say that Lucifer-sama won’t break? It’s very possible for a primal beast to destroy itself while rampaging--or even without rampaging at all.”

“He won’t break.”

Michael raises her eyebrows, taken aback by the confidence with which Sandalphon speaks the words. “And you’re so sure because…?”

“Because Lucifer-sama is stronger than anyone in the skies,” Sandalphon says plainly. “Even in the face of incredible loss, suffering, and _isolation,_ Lucifer-sama continued walking forward with his head held high. He sacrificed so much in the name of his role, and never once did he falter.” He closes his eyes, the many memories he’s seen over the past year flashing to mind. The death of Lucilius by Lucifer’s hand. The empty garden. The many, many betrayals, one of which Sandalphon is guilty for. “He bore the weight of all of this without anyone knowing of his feelings--without anyone supporting him through it.”

Michael falls silent, though the guilt on her face speaks for her. Sandalphon takes a breath, then continues on. “So…I have faith in him. If it comes down to it, he’ll be able to survive.”

“...Very well. I’ll trust your judgement, Sandalphon. The last issue, then, is making Lucifer-sama rampage in the first place.”

“I know of a way.”

Michael quirks an eyebrow, then levels a suspicious glare on Sandalphon. “Do tell.”

“It’s a secret. And like I said, this is only as a last resort…”

Before any of them can press him further, they are interrupted by rumbling so intense that all of the skies seem to quake. Even Vyrn has trouble staying aloft, falling out of the air and into Gran’s arms. “Wahh! What was that?!”

“The grand finale is still in motion… The boundary is wavering and the Otherworlders are agitated.” As Sandalphon speaks, he glares through the window towards the battle-scarred tower. It seems to be the source of the shaking. “We’ll have to do something about the boundary if we want to halt the grand finale, even if it’s only for the time being.”

“I have an idea. Gabriel passed along some information that she discovered in the testing facility that she and the alchemist found. You, mortals; summon Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael to the Grandcypher’s deck. We will need their power.”

Djeeta, Gran, Lyria, and Vyrn nod, dispersing and leaving Michael and Sandalphon alone for the time being. Sandalphon is about to follow before Michael stops him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Sandalphon. Take these wings.”

In her hand are four shimmering feathers: a golden plume, which radiates warmth; a cobalt plume, surrounded by a soft chill; a vermillion plume, which seems to be constantly swaying in a gentle breeze; and ashen plume, which carries the weight of the earth. Though they appear as single feathers, Sandalphon can see that they house the power of an entire wing. 

“These… These belong to the four primarchs!””

“Indeed. I don’t know if they’ll meld well with you. That’s why I didn’t hand them over to you earlier. But if you’re going to stand up to Lucilius, you’ll need the wings to match his. The supreme primarch’s power has yet to return to you, correct?”

“Michael…” He stares at the wings, conflicted, a slew of a year’s worth of memories flooding back into his mind at the sight. He had taken these wings forcibly when he had been much more misguided, and he doesn’t feel entirely right accepting them now, but--

“Thank you.”

\--but too much is at stake. He’s come too far to doubt himself now. And if even the four primarchs believe that Sandalphon has the strength to bear their wishes on his back, then he will answer to those wishes.

He’s the supreme primarch, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i did kind of bs that lore but it's ok cygames hasn't debunked me yet
> 
> Man... 12 chapters tho... I never thought I'd get this far. I honestly thought I'd drop this fic halfway through. I almost came close to doing it a few times, but I'm glad I kept going. I don't plan on dropping it now, most of all because the remaining three chapters are already partially written. 
> 
> If you're still reading this fic, thank you so much for sticking with me! Through the good, the bad, and the very long waits. We're nearing the [belial voice] climax [/belial voice] now and I really hope it doesn't disappoint!


	13. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Writing is so hard and this chapter's kinda *wavy hands* and action scenes are like *wiggly hands* but I hope

The empty, wide halls of Etemenanki seem to spread into infinity. The only sound Sandalphon hears is the footfalls of his heels on the stone.

Behind him, the crew is on high alert. Djeeta and Gran advance slowly with their swords drawn. Katalina keeps an eye on Lyria and Vyrn, Io and Rosetta walking close behind them, and Eugen and Rackam bring up the rear. In spite of their caution, there doesn’t seem to be any sign of the enemy at all. 

Not yet.

Then, Sandalphon spots the telltale signs of a struggle, bringing his arm up to halt the others.

It’s something so stark, so out of place in such a pristine structure, yet it’s also a startlingly familiar sight: blood painting the once sterile walls, like a wounded beast on its death throes. He had seen this very same thing almost a year ago; his nightmares keep the image vivid. But this time, he doesn’t waste another moment. Sandalphon races forward, his mismatched wings propelling him down the hallway, knowing full well that the crew will be able to follow him. 

Etemenanki’s hall comes to an end. The same material that the entire tower seems to be made of rises into an impressive doorway, which Sandalphon wastes no time in pushing open. A large room spreads before him, as plain as the hallway he had just left barring the glyphs etched into the walls and the large stone slab that sits at the back of the room. 

He has no time to admire the spectacle. Sandalphon’s eyes are instead drawn to the center of a room where two men stand. A third is on his knees; with his long, golden tresses pooling on the floor and his elegant-looking robes, the man would probably look enchantingly beautiful if not for the blood that mats his hair and stains his clothes, or the sword hovering right above his neck--

_“Stop!”_

Sandalphon launches himself at the three without hesitation and cleaves the air in two. Lucilius and Belial notice Sandalphon’s approach and leap away at the last second, sparing the golden-haired man a gruesome death. Djeeta and Gran rush in after Sandalphon, grabbing the wounded man and pulling him out of the fray. 

“Are you alright?! Please hang in there!” Lyria cries as she joins the two captains at the wounded man’s side. “We’re here to help you!”

“Nn…” He groans softly as Lyria helps seat him against the wall. “So you’ve come… Thank you...”

The voice sounds familiar, Sandalphon thinks, but he has little time to dwell on it before Lucilius flies at him again. Sandalphon raises his sword in the nick of time to parry Lucilius’ golden blade away from his chest.

“You’re an eyesore, spare,” Lucilius growls. “Get out of my sight.”

“Lucilius--”

He’s forced to leap out of the way again as two blood red sabers descend from the air and pierce the floor of Etemenanki. 

“Whoa there, Sandy, did you forget about little old me?” Belial says, recalling the sabers to his side and preparing to launch them again. Eight leathery wings spread behind him, now good as new. “So cold. I wanted to play with you too! Surely you can let me in on you and Cilius’ fun times.” 

“Damn it…” Sandalphon gnashes his teeth. His eyes continuously drifting towards Lucilius. There’s no sign of Lucifer at all. “Belial! What did you do to Lucifer-sama?!”

“Oh, nothing _too_ bad. He seemed a little peckish, so I gave him another dose of that lovely primal virus that Lucilius developed 2000 years ago. I think I managed to satisfy him. He’s finally gone silent. Didn’t think it’d be that easy to train him into obedience, but I should’ve figured, given the kind of upstanding fellow he is, huh? Always such a pleaser, that Lucifer...”

“Bastard…!”

He’s seconds away from charging again, but Gran and Djeeta beat him to it, attacking Belial in unison and forcing the archangel of cunning to leap back again, effectively separating him from Lucilius. 

“We’ll handle him!” Djeeta yells. “You focus on saving Lucifer!”

Lucilius narrows his eyes, making a move to rejoin Belial’s side--but with the opportunity that the twin captains have granted him, Sandalphon cuts him off with a fierce swing of his sword.

“I owe you one!” he says, then surges forward, his flurry of strikes leaving Lucilius no choice but to focus on Sandalphon. Eventually, the two split off from the crew, their clash leading them towards the hall. 

“Aah,” Belial sighs with mild displeasure. “Really? We were _just_ about to get ourselves going.”

Gran brandishes his sword again. “That’s enough out of you! We won’t let you have your way! You’ll pay for everything you’ve done!” 

“You’ve gotten pretty feisty, Singularity. Did Sandy teach you a few new tricks? You’ll _have_ to show--”

A blast of dragonic energy surges towards Belial, once again forcing him to leap into the air. Clicking his tongue, he glances towards the source: Lyria, who has safely escorted the injured golden-haired man away from the fray, rejoins the captains with the rest of the crew. Her azure hair billows about her as Bahamut’s gargantuan silhouette looms behind her. 

“I won’t let you hurt anyone else!” Lyria’s eyes glow a bright blue as she readies another attack. “I won’t let you look down on this world anymore!”

The whole tower shakes as Bahamut unleashes another attack. It’s followed by a string of other attacks: blasts of ice magic intertwined with thorned vines, a rain of bullets. The bulk of his eight wings belie his nimbleness; Belial weaves in and out of the assault without taking a single hit, dancing out of the way of the blades that nick at his limbs should he dare to stray too close to the ground. 

In the end, Belial hovers high above the wake of destruction the crew’s onslaught leaves behind and heaves a dramatic sigh, though irritation has also begun to wear at his features.

“You know, I can only take so much from aggro little _beggars_ before I start to get tired of it all…”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Belial vanishes from sight. It’s Djeeta who realizes first what’s about to happen.

“Everyone, watch out--!”

Her warning comes too late.

Io cries out as she falls first. Next is Eugen, then Rackam. Lyria gasps as Katalina throws herself in the way of Belial’s next attack; she takes the brunt of the blow and crumples to the ground, Lyria dropping to her knees by her side after her.

“Katalina…!”

Rosetta holds her own a little longer, and primal beast clashes with primal beast. However, her magic proves to be nothing in the face of the sheer power behind Belial’s eight wings, and she falls too. Though the crew desperately tries to regain momentum, Belial strikes again and again, rendering them all incapacitated in an instant before they can truly recover. 

In the end, only Gran and Djeeta are left standing, and just barely. Injuries litter their bodies and exhaustion wears them down, and yet Belial remains completely unscathed. He sits in the air with his legs crossed, nonchalantly examining his nails.

“Tired already? I wanted to play a little bit more, but dominating _this_ much is pretty boring. I guess there’s nothing left to do but to finish you all off.” He stretches, watching amusedly as Gran supports himself on his blade and Djeeta struggles to right herself. “Well, that’s mortals for you… Always so lacking in stamina.”

“Who says you’re fighting _just_ mortals?”

A rare look of surprise crosses Belial’s face--and then, he hastily flaps his wings. The air combusts behind him, singing his clothes and just barely missing Belial himself. Gran’s face lights up in recognition.

“Michael!”

This time, Belial doesn’t even attempt to mask the irritation on his face as he glares at the primarch standing across the room.

“Mikey too… Your timing is atrocious. You really aren’t good at reading the room, are you?”

Michael ignores him. She spreads her wings, her golden plumes shimmering with the heat that has begun crackling around her as she raises her vermillion sword.

“Stand up!” she calls to the crew. “We will end this snake once and for all!”

Her flames spread about the room, deadly to enemies, yet a protective shield for her allies. Reassured by Michael’s valorous rally, Gran and Djeeta face Belial once again with the crew at their backs.

* * *

Sparks fly as Sandalphon and Lucilius lock blades, their wings flaring out behind them. As each vies for the upper hand, Sandalphon searches Lucilius’ eyes desperately for any sign of Lucifer’s consciousness.

“Lucifer-sama... Lucifer-sama!” he calls again and again. “You can hear me, can’t you?! I know you’re still holding on!”

“Save your breath. Lucifer is gone, thanks to the two fools who butchered my plans,” Lucilius says, pushing back ferociously against Sandalphon. “And it seems I owe his destruction to you as well… Perhaps I’ll spare some time to dismantle you slowly and painfully.”

“Bold words coming from the one who caused Lucifer-sama so much suffering in the first place!” Sandalphon roars, giving way suddenly only to swing at Lucilius as he loses his balance. Lucilius barely avoids the strike and leaps back. Sandalphon doesn’t give him a chance to recover, unfurling his six wings as blue light gathers at his back. “Do you know how much it pained Lucifer-sama to have so many of his primarchs turning against him for reasons he didn’t even know?! Do you know how it destroyed him to have to turn his blade on his own creator--his friend?! You’d never understand what he went through!”

Ain Soph Aur tears through the hall towards Lucilius and Lucilius has no choice but to take flight to avoid them. Beams of light inundate the stone, barely missing their mark as Lucilius swerves mid-flight. He regains his bearings, obsidian wings spreading in full as he prepares an attack of his own.

_“Paradise Lost!”_

It’s Sandalphon’s turn to be forced onto the defensive. Crimson and black light surges towards him and Sandalphon dives out of the way, then quickly ducks again; had he not, another blast of light would’ve taken his head off his shoulders. Lucilius’ attack isn’t as contained or controlled as Sandalphon’s was, his entire figure radiating sheer power as his attack ricochets off the walls and weathers the ancient structure.

 _He’s already adapted to using Lucifer-sama’s body!_ Sandalphon realizes, hastily taking flight to avoid another blast. It strikes the wall behind him, fracturing the stone and tearing a large hole into Etemenanki to reveal the world far below them. Frigid gusts rush into the tower and chills the hallway, but neither primarch nor Astral seem to take much notice of it as their fierce clash continues. Lucilius continues to attack Sandalphon relentlessly, and it’s all Sandalphon can do to keep up with him.

_If I can get close to him again, then maybe…_

He swivels on his heel and lunges towards Lucilius, but Lucilius is prepared for him. Crimson swords swing at Sandalphon from both sides and Sandalphon grinds to a halt, summoning his own violet blades to counter them. Lucilius aims another blast of energy at Sandalphon as he struggles, but Sandalphon ducks out of the way and continues his assault, slashing at Lucilius again. Lucilius parries Sandalphon’s sword with ease, but Sandalphon doesn’t relent, attacking again and again until their blades and eyes lock once more.

“Lucifer-sama!” he cries. “I’m right here! I’m here to save you! Please, you have to--”

“You’re still not finished?”

Without even a hint of hesitation, Lucilius delivers a swift, brutal kick to Sandalphon’s torso _,_ throwing him across the hall. The wind knocked out of him, Sandalphon instinctively raises his sword in defense--

 

**_CLANG!_ **

 

\--just in time for Lucilius to knock it right out of his hands. It spins through the air and clatters to the floor, sliding far out of reach. Desperately, he directs his ethereal sabers towards Lucilius, but Lucilius is able to counter them with a wave of his hand, his own crimson blades slicing each of them in two. 

“Lucifer is _gone,”_ he says, approaching Sandalphon with his amber blade in hand, “and the world will soon follow.”

It doesn’t take Sandalphon long to realize that he’s run out of options. He stares at Lucilius, hoping, _begging_ whatever higher powers there are that would still be on his side, to show him a sign, _any_ _sign_ of Lucifer’s consciousness being within Lucilius still as Lucilius lunges towards him.

There is none. 

_There really is no other way…_

Sandalphon closes his eyes.

* * *

_Lucifer stood before a pure white cocoon bathed in the sun’s light. The plumes that encased the primarch within fluttered gently in the breeze, and Lucifer placed a palm upon the ruffled feathers, gently smoothing them back down. His actions were deliberate; he was the very image of serenity, his radiant form complemented by the peaceful, picturesque scenery of the sunlit garden._

_“Some time has passed… You will awaken soon, won’t you?”_

_The supreme primarch smiled softy, leaning a little closer, coming to rest his cheek against the feathers of the cocoon._

_“How curious of a feeling,” he said. “Is this excitement? Anticipation? I have never experienced this sensation before… But it’s not unpleasant. No, it’s quite the opposite._

_“Will I be able to experience more new things with you after you are born...?”_

_And then he chuckled, the sound of his tender laughter like clear bells._

_“You, who will not have a role, will be outside of my command… You, whom I created in the image of this world, won’t have to live your life as a weapon. What kind of primarch will you be? I can’t wait to meet you._

_“My companion… My equal…_

_“My...Sandalphon.”_

* * *

_I’m sorry, Lucifer-sama._

He doesn’t make a sound as Lucilius runs him through. 

Metal tears through flesh and bone and the sword protrudes out of Sandalphon’s back. 

Its wielder stops moving. Sandalphon’s blood has splattered onto his skin, and even more blood oozes from the wound and seeps into his gauntlets. Sandalphon can see the way his eyes slowly widen in shock, like dawning recognition...and he knows.

_We never met face-to-face on that battlefield 2000 years ago._

_I only saw you soaring high above me at a height I could never fathom reaching… But you probably didn’t even know where I was in the chaos._

_You were looking for me…trying to figure out why I had turned against you…_

_Even though you never could’ve known the reason._

Sandalphon gently wraps his arms around the primarch’s shoulders--

_You’ve never seen me getting hurt before. I doubt you even found my body after it was all over. Would you have taken me in if you had?_

_If we had encountered one another during the rebellion at all, would the past 2000 years have been different…?_

_...No. That’s nonsense._

_I should have never rebelled in the first place._

\--and Lucifer freezes in place.

“Lucifer...-sama,” he croaks through the blood pooling in his throat. His mouth is thick with the taste of iron, he nearly gags on it, but he holds himself together. “It’s okay… I deserve this much...for abandoning you, and causing you so much pain… No… Maybe I deserve even more…? ”

His hand comes to rest gently over Lucifer’s wrist. His free arm remains around Lucifer’s shoulders, holding him close in a weak yet tender embrace.

“Like this...”

He pulls Lucifer’s wrist towards him, and with it--the blade embeds itself deeper into his stomach. He feels a sharp intake of breath; the former supreme primarch’s body has begun trembling as more of Sandalphon’s blood trickles from the corners of his mouth and drips onto his skin.

“...S...Sa…”

Sandalphon smiles through the pain. He _knows_ that voice. But Lucifer still doesn’t move. His hand still grips the hilt of the blade tightly, and Sandalphon knows that his inaction goes beyond shock. Though Lucifer’s consciousness has resurfaced, Lucilius’ will still governs most of his body.

“It really hurts, Lucifer-sama… Is this the same kind of pain that you felt too? No, it must’ve been much worse…” He has trouble speaking through the blood, through the pain. His breaths have become shallow and uneven, but still, he forces himself to keep going. “So it’s okay… Punish me for it, if you must. Spill 2000 drops of my blood for the 2000 years I wasn’t there for you.”

_Just a little more..._

Sandalphon reaches up and caresses Lucifer’s face, his bloody fingers leaving streaks of warm crimson on Lucifer’s pale skin.

_“Lucifer-sama...”_

He feels it as Lucifer stumbles back and away from Sandalphon: a sharp spike in energy, and an immense intensification of pressure that threatens to crush him where he stands. Sandalphon had sensed this very same thing many times in the back of the Astral labs, originating from unfortunate primal beasts who could no longer bear the cruel experiments of their scientist tormentors, only this time, it’s been magnified several times. Without Lucifer to support him, Sandalphon crumples to the ground, the blade still embedded deep in his abdomen.

He grits his teeth as he looks up hazily. Lucifer stares at him in shock and disbelief over what he’s done, his breaths coming in short, unsteady gasps. His aura swells about him uncontrollably, and Sandalphon knows that Lucifer has lost agency over his own actions.

_He’s really...going to rampage…_

Sandalphon grasps at the sword that still impales him, but the hilt is slick with his blood, and his unsteady hands slip, unable to find a grip on the weapon and pull it out. 

_Damn it…_

But as Lucifer’s aura is on the cusp of flaring, a golden circle appears at the former supreme primarch’s feet, and shining chains leap from the floor. They coil around Lucifer abruptly and force the struggling primarch down onto his knees, tightening around him. Startled, Sandalphon’s head whips around for the source of the magic and finds it quickly.

The long-haired man they had saved from Lucilius before. He’s on his knees and clearly exerting himself with the many injuries that Io hadn’t been able to tend to, his arms shaking as he casts his spell, but he holds the spell all the same.

“I can’t hold him for long,” he says. His voice strains with the effort it takes to maintain the magic binding Lucifer in place. “Finish him, quickly!”

Sandalphon has no time to praise his unexpected turn of fortune. He simply nods, slowly rising and pulling the sword from his stomach, trying to ignore the way it grates against his flesh. Lucifer is struggling against the chains still. Driven by instinct alone, he thrashes, wings flapping wildly as his entire body fights against the bindings that burn his skin. 

He has the likeness of a frightened animal driven by desperation to survive, Sandalphon thinks sadly. He’s seen other beasts bound and struggling in a similar fashion before they were eventually culled by the Astrals, but never did he once ever expect to see _Lucifer_ in this position. He never _wanted_ to see him like this.

The former supreme primarch eventually exhausts the last reserves of his strength, falling still and slumping against the chains. But it’s not over yet. Sandalphon can tell from Lucifer’s erratic aura that he’s still at risk of rampaging the moment he’s free. Clutching the gaping hole in his abdomen in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood, Sandalphon grips the hilt of Lucilius’ blade and limps closer to Lucifer until he’s standing before the weakened primarch. Lucifer raises his head slowly, watching as Sandalphon raises the blade above his head, and then closes his eyes.

Then, Sandalphon tosses the sword aside. It skids across the hallway and vanishes into the darkness.

“Did you really think I’d end your life?” Sandalphon says, a crooked smile on his face. “When I finally have the chance to talk to you? Nonsense…”

Lucifer quietly raises his head, looking at Sandalphon with apprehension. His aura is still unstable, but it has begun flickering out like a dying flame. All that’s left is to calm him down. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen that kind of face on you,” Sandalphon says hesitantly. By some miracle, he was given the chance to end things without a fight, and he refuses to squander it with poorly chosen words. “It really...doesn’t suit you all.”

He finds himself tongue-tied.

“But… Your wings don’t suit me either. They...they belong on your back. I guess that makes us the same…”

He doesn’t know how to bring comfort to someone; Sandalphon never _has_ brought comfort to anyone, not intentionally. He doesn’t have a naturally serene disposition, and he is wont to lose his composure. He is the exact opposite of everything that Lucifer is, and the realization lies heavy on his shoulders.

“You were...calling for me, right? For the first time, you were asking for help, for _my_ help… So I wanted to answer to you. I’m…”

He’s a disheveled, bleeding mess. How unreliable he must look. Does Lucifer think any less of him now? Does Lucifer still think that Sandalphon can save him?

Even if he can’t meet Lucifer’s expectations--and maybe he never could--Sandalphon wants to try. He owes Lucifer that much.

“I’m here for you, Lucifer-sama. I’m here to save you.” 

He takes a breath, then slowly extends a hand to the kneeling Lucifer as he tries to smile through the pain for him.

“I won’t let you suffer anymore…”

Slowly but surely, Lucifer’s aura tapers out.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Lucifer-sama.”

And seeing Sandalphon clearly before him, Lucifer’s breathing steadies, and the corners of his mouth curve upwards into a smile unlike one that Sandalphon has ever seen on Lucifer’s countenance before. It’s the face of a man so blinded by relief as he focuses on Sandalphon's visage, and nothing else--not the blood, not the injuries, not even his own sorry state.

He’s simply happy to see Sandalphon.

Despite the pain he’s in, Sandalphon can’t help but smile either. Not when he realizes that the look on Lucifer's face is one of pure adoration.

“...Welcome back.”

In the corner of Sandalphon’s eye, he sees the golden-haired man relaxing. His binding magic fades, and the shining chains fall away from the former supreme primarch’s body.

“Sandalphon…" Lucifer slowly reaches for Sandalphon's hand. "I’m--”

* * *

After a long, arduous fight, the archangel of cunning has been brought to his knees, gashes and bruises and burns littering his exposed skin. Blood trickles down his face, and his crimson horns chipped and broken. Three of his blood red sabers crumble into the nether, now floating uselessly around him.

The battle-weary crew and Michael fare no better. The only one not struggling to maintain consciousness is Michael. Still, the victor is clear; the weakened Belial is far outnumbered. 

“Your 2000 years of scheming,” Michael says between her labored breaths, “have finally come to an end.” As she speaks, she reveals Sariel’s scythe and steps closer. Despite the position he’s in, Belial smirks.

“So cold, Mikey,” he drawls. “You don’t even want to enjoy the view? I wouldn’t get down on my knees for just _anyone,_ you know.”

 _“Silence._ You’ve run your mouth long enough, and I refuse to dignify you with the privilege of last words.”

Belial can only laugh airily, and it's not the laughter of a cornered man. 

“Oookay. But you know…”

In one sudden, smooth motion, he flings his last hidden saber towards Michael, leaving the startled primarch to dive out of the way. Gran and Djeeta are also forced to scramble out of its path, and the blade misses its mark.

Yet Belial doesn’t think to change its trajectory.

His target is directly in front of him, right down the hall.

* * *

Lucifer’s hand never reaches Sandalphon’s.

The blade flies from the depths of Etemenanki and pierces Lucifer’s back.

Sandalphon’s eyes widen at the sight of the red protruding out of Lucifer’s torso. Lucifer’s own face has gone pallid with shock, and Belial’s taunting voice drifts down the hall:

_“There’s no reason why the sky has to be blue.”_

And with practiced ease, Belial waves his hand. His blade moves with it, flinging Lucifer off of it and through the hole in the tower and sending him plunging to his doom.

Sandalphon doesn’t even stop to think. 

Ignoring the pain and the screams of the crew echoing around him, Sandalphon dives after Lucifer.


End file.
